A Bird in the Hand
by Verboten Byacolate
Summary: Are children matters of pride, or are they creatures of love? PruCan mpreg. Written with whitetyger123.
1. Chapter 1

"Fuck, Matt... your ass is awesome," Prussia groaned, thrusting back into the willing, open body. He pushed Canada's legs further back so he was almost bent in half. Gilbert grabbed the heavy cock that was practically bouncing in front of him, twisting the head in his hand. Moaning, the Northern American nation fell back into the goose down pillows, his body curling and spreading with Prussia's every whim. He panted, reaching up to drag Prussia closer, his teeth finding their way to a pale shoulder.

"You're not so bad yourself," he mumbled, sucking at the blossoming bruise.

The dissolved country thrust even faster, fucking Matthew into the mattress. "Ngh... Damn straight. I'm the most awesome fuck buddy ever." He wound his free hand in Canada's silky locks, and pulled him up for a deep kiss. Prussia pulled back with a nip to his lips, and grinned. "You love my five meters, don't you?"

Matthew opened his mouth to reply but then Gilbert hit that perfect spot and all he could do was gasp, a stream of French tumbling out in one breath as he hit it again a few thrusts later. He tightened around the ex-nation, his legs parted as wide as they could possibly go. "Gilbert!" he gasped, crying out when the hand left his cock and a devious finger wriggled in between the tight ring of muscle and Prussia's cock. He had thought he'd been stretched to the limit before, but Gilbert seemed to have a lot more faith in the size of his asshole.

He could tell that neither of them were going to last much longer, so Gilbert pumped Canada's cock even faster with his free hand, ego not allowing himself be the first to come. It all felt so good; he wished it could last for hours. But as it was, Prussia felt the tightening in the pit of his stomach all too soon.

Canada shook his head and his lips parted in a silent cry, but only for a moment. One swipe of Gilbert's thumb over the head of his cock was his undoing and he came with a cry that must have been heard by his nearest neighbors. The ones that lived a few miles away at the base of his mountain. He shook, collapsing back into his bed and tightening around the older nation as he tried to catch his breath.

A few more thrusts, and Prussia felt his orgasm overtake him. He kept moving hips hips through it, milking his cock. When he was empty, he pulled out and fell beside Canada, all pants and grunts as he tried to make himself comfortable while moving around as little as possible. "Hey... if I stay the night... can you make pancakes in the morning?" Gilbert said, trying to catch his breath.

Matthew laughed, lifting a hand to brush the long blond strands out of his face. He looked over at the albino on the pillow beside him and grinned. "Is that supposed to be an equal exchange?" he asked softly, damp chest rising and falling as his breathing slowly returned to normal. "My pancakes are as amazing as your presence, huh?"

"Well I wouldn't go that far, but your pancakes are pretty good. Not as awesome as me, but still pretty damn good." He put his hands behind his head, making himself comfortable. "Besides, to get home I would have to get on the plane, and it would be forever 'til I got to bed. This is actually a pretty inconvenient booty call." At least he had a private jet that he had borrowed from his brother.

Canada snorted and rolled over, groping around for the thick comforter that had been relocated to the floor around the beginning of the night. He pulled it up and tossed half over the equally naked Prussian, burrowing under the down-stuffed blanket. "Booty call, huh? Aren't those supposed to be one-time things?"

He shrugged, pulling the comforter up. "Well it's not like we're dating or anything. I call you up when I want some booty, so it's a booty call. Fuck, you think about these things too much." Never one to 'cuddle' after sex, Prussia rolled over and closed his eyes. "Damn, jet leg sucks."

Matthew finally sobered, deciding idly that it was probably what always happened after the high of sex faded. He shifted to his side and turned his own back to the other, burying his nose into the blanket. "Yeah," he agreed softly, and though he knew Gilbert had probably already fallen asleep, he offered a quiet good night to the silence of the room.

* * *

><p>Gilbert awoke to the smell of pancakes and bacon. God, best booty call ever. He got out of the bed and spent a good three minutes looking for his boxers. Once they were on, he went downstairs to see the Canadian at the oven. "That smells good."<p>

Matthew glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Thanks. Good morning." He turned back to the scrambled eggs, moving the yellow bits around to cook them evenly. "You look like you could use a few more hours of sleep."

"Probably. But I can always sleep more on the plane." He sat down to the pile of pancakes and grabbed a few, digging in. "Fuck, best pancakes ever. Seriously. You should move in with me so I get these every day." Not just pancakes of course. His own personal chef with benefits.

"I don't think so," Matthew replied after a moment spent pretending to consider the suggestion. "You sort of have no economy and sex doesn't pay the bills around here."

He shrugged and grabbed some bacon. "Whatever. Then send me a Canada robot that can make me food. I could add a few... extras to make it even more fun, but those wouldn't be for in the kitchen." He was a better lay than England, that was for sure. The Brit was always complaining about shit.

"Mmm, robots are more Alfred's thing," Canada said softly, taking the food off of their burners and depositing what was left onto a large platter, setting it in the middle of the table. "But he looks enough like me, so he'll probably do, right?"

"If the robot can cook like this. Hey, shouldn't this be Canadian bacon?" Prussia held up the one strip of bacon that was left, waving it around a bit.

Canada rolled his eyes. "Just eat the bacon, Gilbert."

Breakfast was a long and nearly painful affair wherein Matthew listened to all of the obnoxious stereotypes Gilbert could come up with at a moment's notice, trying to tune him out instead of throwing something at his smirking face. Even so, it was only a partial relief when Gilbert stood and stretched, a meaningful look in his eye. "Your flight leaving soon?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Well, I'm not taking a public plane, but I bet my pilot is getting bored. But yeah, thanks for breakfast." The albino grinned and went upstairs to get the rest of his clothes. Not that it would be the first time his pilot saw him in his underwear, but he didn't need to make a habit of it.

Matthew said goodbye at the door, lifting a hand as Gilbert traipsed past him and out the door, making his merry way down the mountain with a bag slung carelessly over his shoulder. He let it fall only when Gilbert had disappeared on the trail through the trees. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Turning back into the cabin he straightened up, regarding the white polar bear looking at him curiously from atop the sofa. "You know, I bet he didn't even make the bed."

* * *

><p>"...And I found out how to fix the economy too!" America was saying at the podium for the meeting. He either ignored or didn't notice the collective groan through the room. "You see, McDonald's is gonna come out with a new burger! It's going to be called the spaghetti burger, so it will be spaghetti in a bun! With huge juicy meat balls inside, and with really meaty sauce! It'll be super cheap, so everyone can eat them and still pay off their house. There, problem solved."<p>

It was too much for Canada, though, who had been trying to ignore the familiar roiling in his stomach. Unable to stand it for a moment longer, he excused himself (though no one seemed to notice) and darted from the room. He knew he wasn't going to make it, and right outside the conference hall he grabbed the nearest garbage can and what little contents there were in his stomach were upended into the bin. Once his body's involuntary convulsing came to an end, he panted, clutching the heavy plastic rim for support, whimpering to himself. It was happening again.

Of course, that just happened to be when France was coming back from making out with the secretary from the second floor. Just his luck. "Matthieu? Are you alright? What is the matter, _mon cher_?" He knelt down beside the shy nation, who was considering the distinct possibility of vomiting for the second time just as his body lurched. After a long moment of pathetic heaving, Matthew turned exhausted, wet eyes toward France.

"I don't know," he murmured, rubbing at his eyes. "I-I've been sick for the last couple of weeks... I can't keep anything down and I'm always tired and... and I don't know what's wrong."

Francis tilted his head, putting his hand on Canada's back for comfort. Well, and maybe for a little grab. "That's strange... normally nations aren't sick for that long without some sort of natural disaster. Have there been any troubles in your country?" That was usually the reason for them to be sick or hurt.

Canada didn't even have the energy to swat Francis' wandering hand away. He shook his head. "The economy isn't the greatest, but it's no worse than usual... everything is fine. I think it's a personal problem." He placed a ginger hand against his own stomach, wincing at the threatening spike of pain.

At that gesture, France raised an eyebrow. "It's been a few weeks you say?" He dropped his voice to a lower tone, not wanting anyone else to hear but also being vaguely aware of how sexy it sounded when he did so. "Here, we should go to the bathroom and get you cleaned up, _non_? Ah, and tell me, how long before that did you last make love?"

Matthew nodded absently and allowed Francis to pull him along. "Why does that matter?" he asked quietly, wondering to himself, _'Made love?' When indeed_.

Once in the bathroom, France set about cleaning Matthew's face. "Ah, nothing, nothing. It probably isn't that anyway; it has not happened for so long! I don't see a reason why it would happen now. Probably just a strange flu." He smiled reassuringly, running his fingers through Canada's hair. After all, he still remembered those years when he was taking care of the small colony, so he always tried, at least, to keep an eye out for him more than the other countries who he just wanted to romance.

The Canadian hummed quietly, waiting for his once-father figure to finish his touches before he ducked near the sink, cupping a bit of the faucet water into his hands and rinsing out his mouth. He felt fingers playing with the hair at the base of his skull and forgot for a moment to resist. He had always found comfort in France's touches as a child, and however rarely it happened anymore, he always fell under the spell of those long fingers. "Yeah, probably," he agreed quietly, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. Matthew offered France a tired smile. "Thank you, Francis, but I think I'll just head back to my hotel for now."

He nodded, putting his arm over Matthew's shoulders. "I can take you. Wouldn't want you going by yourself, _cher_." And if by that time he was feeling better...

But just then, England came bursting into the bathroom and slammed the door to one of the stalls. A few minutes later he came out and seemed surprised to see them there. "Damn frog... save your perversion for after the meeting."

"This is nothing perverse, but I'm not surprised you would think that, pervert. Matthieu is sick," Francis explained, arm tightening around the shy nation.

"I know," England hissed, placing his hands on Canada's shoulders. It amazed Matthew that after hundreds of years, even though he had quite a few inches on the former empire, England still managed to make him feel like a child. Not all the time, of course, just at certain moments. Moments like these when the look in his bright green eyes was positively piercing. "Matthew, why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't think it was so serious!" he answered quickly, flustered and nauseous. The hands squeezing his shoulders made him want to cry, which was just... just pathetic for a full grown nation. England reached out to touch his cheek, the frown on his face deeply concerned.

"Of _course_ it's serious! This just doesn't happen every day, you know! Why, if the fae hadn't said something first, I probably wouldn't have even known until you started showing! Really now." He huffed, turning to glare at France with his fists on his hips. "And you. What were you thinking, letting him keep this from me. How long have you known?"

"Known what?" Mathew said, his tone high and somewhat strained.

From that, Francis was beginning to think that his suspicions were correct. After all, England always had ways of knowing these things. Still, he pushed Arthur's hands away when the short nation seemed about to touch Matthew again. "Canada, I asked you when the last time you had made love had been. Was it a couple weeks before you started feeling sick?" He glared at the island nation so he would know that he had just said something he shouldn't have.

Violet eyes wide, he nibbled on his lip. This probably wasn't the time to mention that he hadn't ever really _made love_... or that it wasn't any of their business. "N-no, it was... more like four weeks," he answered quietly, turning red. "Why? Do you think that's why I'm sick?"

"Oh, sweet, you aren't sick," England tutted. "What a terrible thing to call it!"

"Oh shut up, _rosbif_; can't you see that he doesn't understand? The last time this happened he was just a small colony!" France tutted and turned Matthew around to face him. "But he is right, you are not sick. You see..." How to delicately word this... "... in the past, nations would bear children, instead of finding them like we found you and your brother." So much for delicacy. "Well, _most_ nations were just found, but a few were born. For example, Holy Roman Empire was born of Germania and Rome."

Matthew's eyes widened owlishly and looked back and forth between his former parents. He pointed a shaky finger toward himself. "W... wait. You're not saying that I..."

England's eyebrows shot up. "You- oh my. You weren't trying to keep it from me? Damn." He took on a sheepish look. "Forgive me, dear, I just assumed you _knew..."_

Matthew shook his head, stepping back. He felt sick all over again and turned, grabbing the nearest garbage can and retching deep inside.

The French nation held back his hair, knowing from experience how much that helped. "Really, could you be any more dense? Here he is, _mon pauvre fils_, thinking himself ill! And you just go and assume he was trying to keep it from you, you insensitive pair of talking eyebrows," he complained, turning around to glare at the other country.

England bristled. "Well you didn't exactly help, did you? You probably knew and just weren't going to tell him. What if he'd thought something awful was happening when he started to grow, hmm?" The former empire moved closer, his hand on the small of Canada's back. "Let it all out, love."

"I did not know! I had my suspicions, but nothing beyond that. And besides, it isn't something for me to tell! If Mathieu wished to tell you, though I don't see why he would, then he would tell you. How are you feeling, _petit_? Any better?" France rubbed his back, trying to prove that he was the most loving parental figure in the room.

Matthew clutched his stomach. "I'm not p-pregnant!" he coughed, looking up at the two urgently. His face was pale, but his eyes were wild. "That's... I don't know what happened in ancient Europe, but I'm not. I... I just can't be."

England frowned and glanced slightly to the left. A young, lithe creature perched upon his shoulder murmured something behind her tiny hand and he nodded. "Matthew, I'm afraid there is no other explanation. It may be beyond your understanding, but you have a child, some form of landmass, growing inside of you, and that's that."

"You must understand- we are not built like humans. If we were, we would age and die. So what happens is that when powers beyond us wish for a new nation, or simply _land mass_ as the idiot said, they will impregnate the country closely associated with this land mass. So when that nation makes love, the semen will be absorbed into the lining of the _derièr_, to a small dormant womb which is in each of us. There a baby is created!" France explained, doing his best to illustrate it with many awkward hand motions.

Arthur cleared his throat, knowing what would be coming next in the explanation and not wanting the pervert to say it. "About a month before the baby is born, a... birth canal will start opening up, so that the baby can be born. Don't worry, the birth canal will go away a week or two after birth. Or is it a month... Sorry, Matthew, we elder nations have a basic knowledge of this, but I admit that it isn't exactly a frequent occurrence, and not all facts are easy to remember... Are you alright?"

Matthew covered his mouth. _"Merde,"_ he whispered. "How do you know all of this? Oh, no, no, never mind, I _really_ don't want to know."

"Er. Right." Arthur glanced at Francis. "I understand. Obviously, it isn't always like this. Sometimes we just... are. And sometimes we are born. A nation in and of itself, though, is never truly made from a union. The Holy Roman Empire fell terribly, you know. He disappeared, and from what was left of his people became one and from all of that appeared Germany. So it isn't as though an entirely new nation is going to be yours. Does that make sense?"

"Not at all. Sort of. I really need to lie down."

"Oui, let us take you to the hotel. This meeting isn't that important anyway," Francis said, trying to help him get up. It would do him no good to lie on the cold floor. "May I ask, do you know who the father is? Not that you have to say if you don't want to, of course."

Canada shook his head and went to the sink first to rinse the acrid taste from his mouth. His lips pressed in a thin, tight line and Arthur's expression softened. He gave France a weary glare. "I trust you to take him back to the hotel swiftly. I will cover for your absences. Rest assured, you filthy wino, if he so much as sheds a tear in your presence, I will rip out your eyes and shove them up your ass."

The Frenchman rolled his eyes and practically pushed Arthur out of the bathroom. "Just go. It's not like he is the first pregnant person I have dealt with." Just possibly the first that he wasn't a part of. He went back to Canada and put his hand on his shoulder. "You can make it to the car, _oui_? I can get a bag in case you get sick again."

Matthew felt awful and slowly made his way from the room. "There's nothing left. I'd just dry heave." The mere thought of food was torture, but his stomach clenched with the pain of hunger. He winced.

"Here, drink some water first. Little sips. And when we get to the hotel you can have some crackers, that always helps." He saw a water fountain and directed Canada there. "Just small sips, _parfait_. You are doing so well." He started wondering what England was going to tell everyone. Knowing him, probably something boring like they needed paperwork from the hotel.

Touched by his kindness, Matthew quickly wiped hot tears from his eyes and did as he was told, his mind reeling and his heart clenching. He was with child. Prussia's child.

This could only end badly.

* * *

><p>Gilbert put some clothes in a grocery bag, tying the top. He figured it would be better if he actually had some extra clothes to wear, so it wasn't like last time when he saw he had a cum stain on his shirt on the plane ride back. Oh yeah, one last thing. He took out his phone, did a quick search of his contacts, and put the cell to his ear. "Hey Matt! Wanna fuck?"<p>

The other line was quiet for a long moment. Then, _"Um... n-now probably isn't the best time... I've got... paperwork and Kumashiru and I'm running low on firewood, so..."_

"Well it'll be a few hours 'til I get there, so you'll probably have all that shit done by then." Prussia covered the phone and yelled in the direction that Germany probably was, "I'm going out! Don't call me!" After all, he had only been turned down by Canada once, and that was because a hockey game was on.

_"R-really, Gilbert, I... I'm not..."_ The line crackled and thumped before a voice, quiet and tired finally concluded, _"Sure. Okay. I'll leave the back door unlocked."_

That was all the Prussian needed to hear. He hung up the phone and headed to the air strip.

Many, many hours later, when dawn was breaking over the vast mountainside and through the bedroom window, Matthew sat, clutching the blankets in his lap. He gnawed on his lower lip before clearing his throat and nudging the body beside him with his toe. "Gil... Gilbert, wake up."

He just groaned and rolled over. "I'll leave when I wake up, just let me sleep longer." It felt way too early to be waking up after a good fuck. A strange fuck though. Canada had been pretty quiet. He usually screamed at least when he came. Not that it mattered much, it was still good.

"Come on, it's important," Matthew urged, a little frustrated. If this was the way it was to be, he'd have to tell Gilbert, right? Even if the Prussian didn't know what to make of it at first, surely he would understand the importance and at least participate in a civil, halfway decent relationship so that the child wouldn't grow up feeling somehow incomplete... right?

Finally Gilbert opened his red eyes, squinting in the light. "Fine, what is it? Want a morning fuck or something?" That was always nice when he woke up with a hard on. Not this morning though, and it didn't look like Matthew had one either.

It took Matthew a short moment to calm the budding temper Gilbert stirred with the remark. "No," he said, taking a deep breath. "I just thought maybe we should, um... talk."

Prussia laughed, pushing himself up against the head board. "That sounds like you're gonna break up with me or something. Fuck, we're not even dating. Or do you wanna talk about like hockey or something? Because I like hockey. Fucking awesome. So many fights!"

"Uh..." Canada was surprised that the other had been willing to talk at all. "Well, yeah, hockey's good. Let's talk about hockey." Well, at least it was something. How to transition a violent game played on ice to explaining the fathering of one's child, though, was going to be a bit of a challenge...

"Alright. Wanna play tonsil hockey?" Gilbert wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. If he was woken up early, he didn't want it to be just for talking about a game after all.

"Wha- no!" Canada huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please, Gilbert, not everything has to be sexual, okay? You've been around for hundreds of years. Can't you think of anything else to say?"

He sighed at the rejection. "Well sure I can, but do I really want to? If we're not gonna have sex then can I at least have pancakes?" If we wasn't getting sex or pancakes, was there really a reason to stay? They had never 'talked' before, not since they started this whole fuck-buddy thing anyway, so why now?

Matthew's stomach churned at the thought of pancakes. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand and closed his eyes, trying to quell the urge to vomit. "Not this morning," he answered after a moment, thinking about anything but food.

Gilbert backed up a bit. "Uh, are you alright? You look kinda green..." If he was going to barf, Prussia wanted to be as far away as possible. He hated it when people threw up. It was disgusting!

"Nn, I'll be... oh... urgh." He hastily untangled himself from the blanket and sprinted into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as he heaved what little contents of his stomach there were.

Red eyes wide, Prussia went to the bathroom and stood at the door. "Are you alright?" His answer was the wince-inducing sound of Matthew puking again. "Um... can I help?" He didn't want to just leave, but he also didn't want to be there when someone was throwing up. It was fucking gross.

On the other side of the door Matthew struggled with the weight on his arms, holding himself above the porcelain goddess, sick and miserable. He glanced weakly at the door and felt his hair sticking uncomfortably against his cheeks and forehead, tasted the acrid bile in his throat and knew that if he allowed Gilbert to come in, he would only be disgusted. Still, he deserved to know... but...

Taking a deep breath he answered, "N-no, I'm fine." If Gilbert decided to come in anyway, he would tell him. It would mean that he did care, that he could disregard obviously forced brush-offs. He could be good for the child.

The albino wasn't sure what to do. He was never good with these types of things. "Ah... right... well then, I hope you feel better. I'm just gonna go." Yeah, he could send him a get well card or something. That was a good idea. A better idea than staying around with someone who was obviously sick. And could make him sick. And besides, Canada said he was fine!

Matthew listened, staring intently into the white bowl through the sounds of Prussia shuffling around the room for his clothes, traipsing down the stairs, and the final slam of the front door. He felt... odd. Sick. Numb. He shouldn't have been surprised; he knew what this was to Gilbert. He was sure that he had wanted just the same in the beginning.

Standing shakily, he flushed the toilet and turned on the shower, intent on washing away the vomit and the scent of Gilbert that clung to him like a bad dream.


	2. Chapter 2

He knew he wasn't a woman, but all of his symptoms seemed to be the same and he wasn't about to ask the older nations about the specifics of pregnancy, so Google would have to do. Canada felt relieved that the ordeal was happening in such a technological age; there were so many sites with free information about the process, but Matthew could not help but feel that he should be as well informed as possible. So after a long, hot shower and a very small breakfast, Matthew pulled his laptop into his lap and ordered half a dozen books on the subject of pregnancy. It was clear that he was going to go through the ordeal alone, and he had always liked keeping busy, so it made him feel a little better to know that there were so many helpful manuals on the subject. He would do this the right way, with or without anyone else.

The first of many arrived one week later and Matthew immediately set to reading, a cup of some sort of special tea from Arthur cradled in his palms and the thick manual in his lap.

He learned quickly and eagerly, absorbing all of the information he could get at. What were the best foods for the embryo's nutrition; what he absolutely could not intake at the risk of the baby's health; what exercises and little stretches he could perform to ease the swelling in his ankles and the soreness in his lower back. He blushed and skipped past the chapter on breastfeeding and paused when he found a table. On the far left in large letters numbered the weeks down a column, and on the far right there were doodled pictures of the silhouette of a woman, the width of her girth expanding in the later weeks, and the size of the fetus low in her belly. In the middle were bullet points relaying information about the development. He counted in the back of his mind the number of weeks since the beginning of the ordeal and turned the page.

Week six spelled the normal beginning for nausea (he shuddered to think that if it normally only started at six weeks, how much worse would it become for him?). He nodded, reminding himself at the small tidbit that followed that he needed to find someone who would provide him with some form of prenatal care. He would probably go to Arthur for that.

When his eyes met the following line they went wide and a breath caught in his throat. One hand went to curl over his stomach and he was filled from the warm corners of his eyes to his curling toes with an emotion Matthew did not realize he possessed.

Week six marked the first beating of the baby's heart.

He read over the line a dozen times before he could stop himself, and hot tears poured down his red cheeks. Within an embryo a mere seventeenth of an inch long, rested a tiny, tiny heart beating deep inside of him. There was a cord connecting the infant, unbelievably small and helpless, completely dependent on him, to his body. It was real. It was all very real.

A heartbeat.

He scrambled for his phone, unable to keep the feelings surging through him inside. It was a step beyond wonder somewhere lost in joy, and he tried regain control of his breathing.  
>An ocean away Prussia looked at his phone, raising an eyebrow when he saw who was calling. "Hey Matt. You feeling better? Sorry, I meant to get you a get well card. Guess I forgot." It was strange; usually he was calling Canada for a booty call, not the other way around. Not that he would complain if that was what it was.<p>

Pulling Kumajiro close, Matthew could barely contain his joy. "Gilbert," and he didn't care that he sounded breathless, there was a second heart beating inside of him, "Gilbert, did you know that an embryo's heart begins to beat at six weeks?"

It took a second for Prussia to answer the strange question. "Uh... no I didn't. Awesome though. So what's up? Wanna fuck?" Get the conversation back to normal territory. Why the hell would he care about when an embryo started having a heartbeat?

Matthew squeezed the white bear in surprise but shook his head, not about to be taken off the high of his discovery. "No... Gilbert, listen. Six weeks. Some people don't even know until after six weeks, they don't even know that there is a tiny pinprick of a person with a heartbeat inside of them."

"Look, Canada, that's great and all, but I don't really... Are you drunk or something? Drunk and watching a show about babies?" Prussia scratched his head, and sat down on the couch. This all didn't really make much sense. The only people who would care about that were... pregnant girls!

"Of course I'm not drunk, alcohol is..." He stopped himself just in time and cleared his throat. "A-anyway, just... it's amazing, isn't it? That something so small and sometimes even unnoticeable is so alive? That a person could be so tiny and dependent, and still pump blood through it's itty bitty body? For heaven's sake, at that stage they don't even have limbs, but they have a heart." Matthew felt like he was pleading for some greater response. Like he needed to know that Prussia understood the intensity of it.

Now this was really starting to get annoying. "Is this seriously why you called? To talk about a baby's heart beat? Dude, my time is way too awesome to be talking about this shit. You're obviously happy about this for some reason, and good for you, but come on Matt, tell someone who gives a fuck."

It was like his heart had plummeted into his stomach, and for a moment Canada simply could not find the proper words to respond. Were there any? His grip on Kumajiro tightened and the bear gave him a quizzical look that he didn't see, his throat suddenly very dry. "Ah... o-okay... s-sorry about that... I, um... I'm making dinner, so I'll... I'll talk to you later." He quickly hung up and dropped the phone, turning his eyes out the window.

For a long moment he sat, just staring out at the fine dusting of flowers dotting across the yard in perfect silence. He should have known. It wasn't Gilbert's fault; it was just in his nature to be disinterested in something like this. And he couldn't know of the life forming in Matthew's belly, so there was no point in getting upset. He jumped nearly a foot in the air when the phone rang and when he realized that his vision was too blurry to even see the caller ID, he covered his mouth with a trembling hand. "H... hello?" he answered quietly.

"Hey Mattie!" an enthusiastic voice called from the other line. "You know, I was watching a show, and there was a polar bear on that show, and I had to ask: What is wrong with yours? Normal bears are way bigger! And they can't talk." A pause. "... Hey, are you alright? You sound kinda funny."

Canada was mortified when, instead of a reply, the only response he could give was a quiet sob. He shook his head though Alfred could not see and did his best to cover it with a sigh. "There's nothing wrong with Kuma, Al. And I'm fine." It was a pathetic excuse for a lie; he knew Alfred could hear him crying.

"No, you're not fine! You're worried about your bear aren't you? I'm sorry I said anything, I'm sure he's a normal talking bear! Nothing to be worried about! I just thought I should tell you. Maybe he's like that because he's a midget bear. That talks." Although he never did say much. America thought it was kind of strange that his brother would be so worried over his bear to cry over it, but maybe it was actually some serious bear-sickness.

Matthew choked on a bit of laughter through his tears and buried his face in Kumajiro's fur. "Yeah... thanks, Al." He hiccuped and glanced up at his empty house and felt the bear lay a paw over his stomach. Despite Alfred's boisterous nature and his momentary distraction, it changed nothing in the long run, and all of the sudden Matthew felt terribly alone. "Um... Alfred?" he said quietly. "Are you busy?"

Maybe it was some twin telepathy (or crazy twin shit as Alfred liked to call it) but he knew what Canada wanted. "I'll be there in two hours. Have burgers ready." Then he hung up the phone and grabbed a few things. He could spend the night. Especially if there was beer.

It gave Matthew plenty of time to compose himself; he made up the guest room, tidied up around the living room (though Alfred wouldn't notice and was likely to make it three times messier within twenty four hours), took a shower, and was settling back into the book's chapter on breathing exercises when he heard the familiar sound of the front door coming unlocked. Cursing himself for giving Alfred a key, he was able to stow the book away deep in the cushions of the couch seconds before Alfred made his noisy way into the living room. He regarded his brother owlishly for a moment before his features softened and he remembered exactly why he'd needed Alfred in the first place.

"Come here, bro. I've missed you! Don't worry, we'll find out what's wrong with your bear and fix it. Of course fixing it would mean he would become a huge angry bear that doesn't understand what we're saying..." America still gave Matthew a big hug, practically suffocating him before letting him go. "But first, burgers!"

Matthew doubted he could keep the heavy, greasy food down and grimaced. "Well... okay, but I'm not really hungry. Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge."

America pulled out his bag and opened it. "I figured you wouldn't make any. So I brought my own! American burgers are better than Canadian burgers anyway. But I will help myself to your beer. You want one?" He went into the kitchen to get one.

"Um, I don't, uh..." He panicked, scampering after Alfred and trying to come up with an excuse. "I forgot to get some more last time I was in town. Sorry, Al." He smiled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "I have coffee, though."

He paused, then looked in the fridge. "But you always have beer! Like... always! Come on Mattie, you have to be hiding it somewhere!" He looked in all the cupboards and everything but couldn't find anything. "Why don't you have beer?"

"I-I told you, I just forgot," he insisted, looking for any way to change the subject. "Uh, how was the drive up? The roads aren't slick, are they?"

Alfred was still pouting in the direction of the fridge, but decided to drop it. "They must have been. This is Canada, it's always cold." Yeah, it must have been cold on the drive up here. He remembered seeing a bunch of flowers... but that must have been in the States. "But! Are you feeling better about your bear? Oh look, there he is! Wow, he looks nothing like the one I saw on TV... uh, but maybe the one I saw was the wrong one! And your bear is just fine!" After all, he didn't want Mattie to cry again.

Matthew smiled faintly at him and shook his head, bending over to gather Kumajiro up in his arms. "Kumapichi is just fine. He's growing at his own pace. Aren't you, Kuma?"

"Who?" the bear replied, looking about the room complacently.

"Yeah, I'm sure he's fine. A little stupid, but fine." Alfred pat the white bear on the head, and then grinned at Canada. "So if you weren't worried about your pet, then why did you want me to come up here?"

He paused all actions and blinked at Alfred, no proper response coming to mind. "Uh... I..." Something. Anything. "Um, I just... c-can we not talk about it... right now?"

But even the oblivious American could tell there was something wrong. "Come on, you can tell me. If you can't tell your brother, then who can you tell?" He put his arm around Matthew's shoulder, pulling him close. "I bet you would feel better."

Matthew looked down at America's sneakers, resting his chin atop Kumajiro's head. "Yeah," he murmured, "you're probably right. But I just really... I don't feel comfortable talking about it right now, you know?" He peeked up into his brother's eyes, chancing a sheepish smile. "Sometime, I promise. I just needed someone here with me."

"Alright, and who better than your amazing brother? So what do you wanna do? We could watch a movie, like an alien movie! I think there was one on tonight! Well, Colorado told me about it, but he's always lying. Such a mean child..."

At that moment, a little light went off in Canada's head; America would know lots about children. He had adopted fifty of them, after all. "That sounds good. I'd love to. Um, Alfred..." He waited until he knew he had his brother's full attention before pressing on. "How little was your youngest when you first found them?"

America tilted his head, hating it when people ask questions like that. Technically, he found Tennessee when she looked about three, but before that he had had seven others. Of course, he couldn't tell anyone that. "I found Florida when he was a couple weeks old. He was so cute! First thing he did was smile." Not like Kansas, who farted when she was born. He supposed that was a view into the future, with all the tornadoes.

Matthew watched him for a moment and idly stroked his stomach as Alfred prepared the stove to make his burgers. His eyes went soft as he imagined it. "That's so sweet," he murmured, shuffling closer to his brother and reaching into his fridge for condiments. "How did you take care of them all alone?"

"It's easy. Well it was with the states... I think because they are a land mass they were a bit more mature than normal kids. At least whenever I took them into town they would be way better than other kids." America soon had his burgers ready, using methods that McDonald's used to make it quicker.

"I thought kids were supposed to be a challenge," Matthew said, grabbing two glasses and filling them with ice, his voice dry. "Don't tell me it was actually easy. I do remember your civil war, you know."

He laughed, putting the burgers on a plate and taking his first, second and third bite. "Well at that point they were pretty much teenagers. Most of them. The baby stage is easy. Just keep them fed and clean, and you're good! Though I wish they had invented disposable diapers back then..." Alfred shuddered, remembering all those cloth diapers.

Canada smiled at that and filled Alfred's glass with Coke, his own topped off with water. "Of course if someone said it was easy, it'd be you. You're probably lying through your teeth, Mr. Hero." He wasn't sure if that meant he could count on Alfred to babysit or not.

"Not lying! Of course I always did have the other states to help me when I had... found a new one. New York was always really good with the kids at night, because he's kind of an insomniac." Then Alfred turned to him, a strange look on his face. "Why do you want to know? I mean you found all of your states or whatever you call them. What's the difference?"

Matthew glanced down at his feet guiltily. "Um... well, not exactly. Back then, I was sort of... okay with France and England deciding what to do with me... even though I really wanted it, I wasn't as hell-bound or theatrical on independence as you, and... a-anyway, by the time I really started paying attention, the provinces had already picked sides and with the whole bilingual thing, they mostly looked up to England or France. Like your loyalist states back around the Revolution."

The nation paused in his eating. "Oh? So why the sudden interest? You've never asked about them before."

"Huh? Oh. Um..." Matthew took a quick drink of his water and averted his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I've just been... reading up on kids lately, and you have so many... I thought you might be willing to... to talk about it."

"Oh. Ok!" America moved to the living room, stuffing the rest of the hamburgers into his mouth. "Well, I think that Illinois was the first to speak. She said 'cow.' It was pretty funny because she said it to Artie, so I told him that he'd better go on a diet. California didn't say anything for the longest time, but then when he was two he said 'Me wants juice pwease.' He was such a cute kid."

Curling up on the couch beside his brother, Matthew tried his best to ignore the grotesque fashion in which he consumed the meat. "Yeah?" he prompted quietly. "How do you, um... how do you keep a close relationship with all fifty?" Not that he was expecting to have more children, but now that he thought about it, the provinces might prove to be a lot of help... especially if Quebec got his act together...

Washing the burgers down with the soda, Alfred shrugged. "Now that they're older it doesn't matter as much. I mean, they can all take care of themselves, right? I still see them, we have a get together every few months, but besides that they do fine on their own."

"So... you really grow apart?" He knew it was silly, as the baby wasn't even as big as the nail on his pinky finger, but the thought of something so close to him just being a casual "only seen every few months" pinched at his heart.

He looked over at his brother, and shook his head. "We don't get to see each other as much as we used to, but we never grew apart. They're my kids! I raised them. Sure, some were hardly any younger than me in my colony days, but we all still know each other just as well as we used to."

"Ah. I see." He breathed a little sigh and smiled faintly. "Well, I hope you're full, 'cause I'm in the mood for some Call of Duty and I don't want you holding me back on account of an empty stomach..."

* * *

><p>Several hours and multiplayer battles later, Matthew said goodnight to Alfred and trudged up the stairs for bed, utterly exhausted and yearning for his thick blankets and soft pillows.<p>

Alfred was getting ready for bed (basically stripping down to his boxers). He crawled into the guest bed and had snuggled up, touching the Angry Birds app on his phone when it rang. A large grin appeared on his face when he saw the little red and white flag. "Hey Artie! Did you get the box of tea I sent you?"

"This isn't tea you imbecile," came the hiss on the other line, tinged with spite and loathing. "This 'Lipton' garbage is wasting my counter space. You wretched thing, you know proper tea isn't meant to be iced."

"Iced tea is the best kind of tea there is. I'm hurt that you don't like my gift!" America laughed into the phone, rolling over on his side. "I'm at Mattie's place, why don't I ask his opinion? I bet he would say that iced tea beats the crap out of normal tea!"

"Matthew would never side with an idiot like yourself," Arthur sniffed and after a moment of Alfred's laughter, he seemed to calm down considerably. "How is your brother?"

Alfred shrugged, even if he couldn't be seen. "He's fine. He didn't have any beer in the house though! Said he forgot to get some. Maybe his memory is slipping. He always has beer!" He obviously still wasn't over that. Canada had always been really proud of his beer!

Immediately England's tone grew more tense and stern. "Don't you dare let him drink beer, Alfred Jones, or so help me you will never be invited to a royal wedding again."

"What are you talking about? Matt always drinks beer with me! You of all people shouldn't be preaching about sobriety! Remember last New Years?" The sexy waiter outfit had been out in full force. Sometimes without the apron.

England's normal spluttering denial of the memory was curiously absent and his tone remained firm. "Be that as it may, you are not to allow him to drink anything alcoholic, and preferably nothing caffeinated, either."

"Now that you say that, he was down to just one bottle of Coke... what's wrong? Is he sick or something?" Now he was getting worried. Canada didn't seem sick. And why would he tell England and not him? Stupid England, always trying to steal his brother away from him.

"Sick? Of course n- oh. _Oh_. Oh my." England tutted to himself on the other line in an exasperated manner. "I can't believe he didn't tell you, really, Alfred. It's not something you keep from your brother, certainly, but... oh, I can't tell you then, can I?"

Eyes wide, the American practically yelled into the phone, "Tell me what? Does Mattie have cancer? Oh my God, Mattie is gonna die! Can he even die? Will he just be in horrible pain the rest of his life? Oh no, Mattie!"

"Canc... what is wrong with you?" England snapped. America could practically see the crease in his brows from all the way over in Canada. "You twit, he's not sick. He's... taken on a different kind of burden."

And then Alfred remembered his pregnancies, all those years ago. Granted, back then they didn't know you weren't supposed to drink while pregnant, but still... "Oh my God! He's having a baby!"

"Quiet, you daft twit," England growled. "How did you come to that conclusion so quickly? That damned frog told you about national pregnancy, didn't he? Fucking wino. I- oh blast it, that's the door. Alfred. Don't you dare let him know I told you. And don't let him drink or smoke or fight or... whatever you two do when you're left alone." He made a little noise. "I trust you to look after him. He won't tell us who the father is, but I have the feeling he's alone in this. All right?"

"I'm going to be an uncle! I'm going to have a nephew! Aw man I'm going to teach him how to play football! And all the cool uncle stuff. I'm gonna be an uncle!" Well this explained a lot. He remembered how emotional he got when pregnant. Once he went to visit his boss and ended up crying on the desk in the Oval Office with a gentleman in a powdered wig awkwardly patting his back.

Quiet chuckles sounded over the ocean. "Yes, love. Now put that hero complex of yours to good use and keep your brother safe. Good night, Alfred."

He hung up the phone with a "Goodnight old man" and jumped out of the guest bed, making his way over to his brother's room. He wasn't going to let him sleep alone if he was pregnant! They had to talk about this! They had to discus how they totally had to name the kid after Batman. Slowly Alfred opened the door to Canada's room and found him snoring lightly on his side. Well, he didn't want to wake him up, knowing how exhausting the first few months could be, so he just climbed in beside his brother.

"Night Mattie. Night awesome nephew... Or niece I guess... but I would really like a nephew," America whispered into the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun rose slowly over the mountain's peak, but Matthew didn't wake for hours after dawn, and when he finally did, he realized that he had not only been able to enjoy a full night's sleep for the first time in weeks, but that he was also not alone in bed. In fact, there was a large body crowded against his back rather comfortably. Slowly he turned to glance at the blond snuggled on the pillow beside him. "Er. Good morning?"

Alfred smiled like the early morning sun. "Morning! To both of you!" Oh shit. Arthur had wanted him to keep his mouth shut. But then again, when did he ever listen to the old man?

Matthew blinked in confusion for a moment before it clicked. His eyes widened and he felt the color drain from his face. "Uh.. w-what?"

"Why wouldn't you tell me you were pregnant? I mean seriously, you told Arthur but not me? Since when are you two close? He hardly remembers you half the time! I could understand telling France maybe, but you still should have told me." America pouted, his bottom lip sticking out rather comically.

Canada cursed England in the back of his mind before returning to the issue at hand rather helplessly. "Um... s-sorry," he said, glancing down to avoid Alfred's knowing eyes. "I... I didn't even know myself until Arthur told me. His fairies were the ones that told him, so really, he knew first..."

"Uhuh, sure. Now, do you have morning sickness? I'll get you some crackers, they always help. And some toast. You must be hungry, you didn't have anything to eat last night." Alfred got out of bed, rearranging the blankets so that Canada was still covered. Huddling down in the covers Canada watched, bewildered, as his normally egocentric brother briskly left the room and returned in record time with a plate of toast, jam, crackers and water.

"Thank you, Alfred," he said slowly, wondering what exactly was going on.

"No problem. So how many weeks along are you?" It was nice to be using all of his knowledge to help someone else. He had spent those few pregnancies pretty much alone, so he had to figure all this stuff out by himself.

Nibbling on the toast, he answered, "Six," and then remembered very suddenly what had happened the day before. He swallowed the toast dry and lowered the piece of bread, a little less hungry than before. After a moment he looked up, a wane smile on his pale face. "Did you know that in the sixth week, the baby's heart starts beating?"

America nodded, sitting on the bed. "Yeah, and they start moving at eight weeks. But you won't be able to feel it." Damn, should he really be saying all this? After all, no one besides his states knew that he had actually given birth to seven of them. But maybe now that he wasn't the only male country to get pregnant... and this was Mattie! He could tell his brother.

Matthew's lips quirked and his head lightly tilted to the side. "You're interested in these kinds of things, too?"

"Well... not exactly. I kinda had to be. Um okay, you have to promise not to tell anyone, alright?" Alfred waited for Canada to promise, then continued. "I actually, er... had a few of my states."

Canada's eyes widened and he sat up a little straighter. "What? Really? But... but England said it didn't happen often... and you have so many. How did you keep them secret?"

He scratched the back of his neck, not exactly sure how to go about explaining it. "I didn't have all of them. Only seven. So I just stayed at home, didn't tell anyone. It was kinda normal back then, after all; I mostly kept to myself for a couple of centuries. I had no clue it had happened before, I didn't know what was going on. And to tell you the truth, I was kind of worried that the babies would be taken away from me. So you're the first other nation that knows."

"Oh, Alfred.." Matthew's cheeks flushed at the pleasant feeling he always got when Alfred told him a secret. He moved a little closer, munching on the toast. "You, um... you don't have to tell me the parents, but... which ones?"

He started listing them off, counting on his fingers. "Illinois, Missouri, Oklahoma, Kansas, Wyoming, California, and Maine. She's the oldest... Even though she looks the youngest. She is so cute! I just wanna pinch her cheeks all the time! And then she glares at me just like Arthur..." The one thing that she had in common with her other parent, though he would never say that.

"That's... wow." Canada laughed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You did so well with them... mostly, I guess, and I'm so nervous about just one... did you ever get, you know..." He rolled his shoulders. "Lonely? Overwhelmed?"

Alfred shook his head. "I always had my other states there to help me. And you'll be fine too! Because you'll have me! Arthur said you didn't want to say who the father was, so I won't ask, but whoever he is-"

Matthew's breath caught in his throat and he focused on the half-eaten slice of bread, frowning. "I just... it's not that I don't want to say... well, maybe it is, but really, I just..." He winced. "I don't want it to get out because... I don't want him to know."

"That's fine, Matt. Trust me, I know. None of the fathers of my children know. None of them are yours, by the way. Just want you to know that." If he had Matthew's baby, he probably would have told him. But no one else.

Matthew laughed a little at that. "Not even Minnesota?" Handing Alfred a piece of toast smothered in jam, he pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin upon them. It made him curious that his overconfident brother had kept the birth of his children secret from the rest of the world. "Well, why did you want to keep them secret? I-if that's not too invasive..."

He finished the piece of toast in two bites. "Well I had never heard of it happening before. I was worried. And back then I thought everything was a conspiracy started by Arthur."

The younger reached out, wiping a bit of the raspberry off of his brother's cheek. "I understand that, but you didn't treat Maine like a conspiracy, did you?" he asked softly and then caught himself. "Er... I don't know if England's the father, I just assumed, since she's one of the New England states..."

Alfred smiled and made a small nod. "But he didn't know about her, so she couldn't be a conspiracy. Anyway, enough about me, let's talk about you! Been having any weird dreams? Anything you're worried about?"

Matthew opened his mouth and then closed it again, rubbing the back of his neck. His expression was sheepish. "W-well, yeah, but it seems kind of silly now..."

"Don't worry, you can tell me anything. I'm your bro, remember! And luckily I have been through all this before." He was going to be the hero and help out his pregnant brother in as many ways as possible.

"I know, and that's why it's silly." He watched his hands idly as he played with his own fingers.

"It's just that I'm really nervous about this. The whole thing. Y'know, parenting alone... well, parenting period." He swiped a stray lock of gold behind his ear bashfully. "I know it was easy for you, but I just... I can't help but wonder, what if something goes horribly wrong, you know? What if the baby turns out to be human or something? Or if it's not, and it wants independence from me? With England and France it was justified for us; we're nations. But it's my _baby_, you know?" Heat prickled at the corners of his eyes and he wiped at them fiercely. "And what if he- the father... what if he decides he wants my baby? What will I do?"

America pulled him closer in his arms. "For the parenting thing, come on, there is no way you could be any worse than I was, and look how my states turned out. For the human thing, I don't think that's possible if the father was a nation. And you're just scared because Quebec is always threatening to leave. And if the father tries to take my niece or nephew away, I'm gonna kick his face into next week, I don't even care who he is. Even Russia. Especially Russia. Holy shit, it isn't Russia, is it? I don't want a half commie niece or nephew! Well, even if it is I will still love it and be an amazing uncle, but seriously!"

"What? No!" Canada shuddered. "Al, he _sits_ on me in meetings. I wouldn't... no. It's definitely not Russia." He relaxed in his brother's secure hold and sighed, closing his eyes. "... I'll... I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else - not even Arthur. And you can't just go beat him up, either."

"I'll fucking beat him up if he wants to take your kid from you! But I promise to be nice and shit. Wait... it isn't England, is it? That would be weird! He's so old he probably doesn't have anything left. I mean, sure, there is Maine, but that was centuries ago!"

The Canadian shook his head, and continued to avoid Alfred's eyes. "No, it's... um... it's... Gilbert." He cleared his throat and blushed deeply, his nervousness at Alfred's reaction would be translating into a steady stream of fast-paced rambling. "Well, I mean, it's not even like we have a relationship, w-we were just relieving stress... regularly... and I guess something just stuck, and he's not interested in kids, or, um, babies, s-so it's not bad that I'm keeping this from him, right?" He only took a short moment to breathe, and in that moment fears he didn't even know he had melded and morphed with old ones, causing his brows to scrunch together and his unsteady emotions to react. "H-he doesn't know anything about this. I didn't even... I'm so stupid!" He looked up at Alfred, not waiting for a response. "He doesn't know. I'm a big jerk, Al. I got mad at him for not being interested in the heartbeat, and that's why I called you. It's not his fault. I just... I felt alone, and I needed him to acknowledge how amazing it was, and when he didn't, I just got mad."

Matthew buried his face in the comforter, taking deep, gulping breaths and letting the thick material soak the wetness from his cheeks.

The normally loud nation quietly took his brother in his arms, letting him cry on his shoulder. Yes, these were the emotions he expected. After all, he had had very similar ones before. "Trust me, whatever you do, it's not your fault. Forget about him. If he doesn't want a kid, then who cares what he thinks? Now, we're getting out of bed, getting dressed, and going into town. Maybe we could start shopping for baby things! Oh, and you're going to need maternity clothes. You're lucky it's the 21st century; when I was pregnant, I pretty much had to wear a big dress."

"Can't I just wear big t-shirts?" Canada asked, though to be honest, he found himself a little... relieved. He hadn't actually been out of the house in a few weeks, so the thought of moving about with his brother was fairly appealing. Before he'd even realized it, the steady stream of tears had stopped.

Alfred shook his head and stood up, getting his brother up as well. "No way. What if you get really big? When I was preggers with Wyoming, it looked like I had a huge beach ball under the dress! Seriously, I could hardly walk around. Oh- and the swollen ankles! Don't even get me started on the back pains."

Matthew winced and allowed Alfred to toss clothes at him from his closet and started getting dressed. "But... aren't maternity clothes going to be really girly? I do have my pride, you know..."

"Well, if nothing else we have to get you some pants. I think they have like a stretchy part for the stomach area. But we don't have to get that stuff today, wait 'til you're bigger. We could just go looking, see how much cribs are, shop around for the safest one and shit. I should really look up all the new safety things there are for newborns. It's been so long." Once he found some clothes for them both (he didn't feel like getting his bag) America got dressed and ruffled up his hair a bit. Matthew reached over and ruffled it further, laughing and ducking with Alfred reached out to return the favor. The week was shaping up already.

* * *

><p>Alfred had decided to extend his stay from a weekend to a week, and then a week to twelve days and Matthew didn't mind a bit. Quite on the contrary, actually. Normally he could only stand short bouts of Alfred at a time, but this Alfred - the one that was already beginning to play a healthy role in the unborn child's life, the one living up to his promise to take care of Matthew - was really quite easy to get along with on a regular basis.<p>

On the twelfth night of America's stay, while Alfred watched some American movie about one of his wrestlers from the earlier part of the twentieth century, Matthew flipped through one of his books on pregnancy, searching for any new information with his head nestled in his brother's lap.

"Hey, Al," he said, calling for his attention and rolling over a bit to meet the blue eyes from below. A silly smile crossed his face as he reread the passage, his hand stroking his mostly flat, exposed belly. "I can't feel it yet, but in the eighth week, the baby starts to move. And the eyelids are forming. And the fingers are separating. Just imagine how tiny those hands are..." He sniffled, trying not to get too emotional at every little thing he learned about the growing fetus.

America smiled down at his brother, idly stroking his hair. "Yeah. Awesome isn't it? I wish I had known all this shit back when I was knocked up. Back then all I knew was from my experience." There had been a few books saying some vague things, but nothing like there was today.

Matthew smiled back his entire body warm. He should have called Alfred from the start, and probably would have if he'd known that he wasn't obnoxious all the time. The feeling of fingers through his hair was beginning to lull him into a state of relaxed half-sleep, warm and floating, when Kumajiro darted into the room, his large paws heavy on the hardwood floor as he skidded in, and the sound of the front door being opened woke him up completely.

"Mathieu! I have arrived straight from Paris! I have gifts for the bébé!" France called, and went into the living room, seeing the twins on the couch. "Hmm? What is he doing here? I thought I was going to help you!" He dropped his bags and began opening them.

"I'm his brother! I deserve to take care of him way more than you do," Alfred defended himself, knowing that he could scare off the Frenchman if need be.

The youngest nation scrambled up and straightened his clothes, smoothing down his tousled hair in case France got any ideas and started teasing. He really didn't want a fight to break out in his home. He'd read that stress wasn't good for the baby. "Don't be rude," he piped up softly. Matthew went over to France and crouched down to help. "You should have told me you were coming. If I'd have known, I would have met you at the airport."

"Don't fret. I met this really cute cab driver. Unlike America's where they are all East Indian." France took out a big can and handed it to Matthew. "I found the perfect colour for the baby's room! It's a nice pale yellow, since we don't know the gender. Which room will you be making up?"

A bit surprised at the genuine thoughtfulness, Matthew looked up. "Well, I was thinking I'd probably keep the baby in my room for the first few months or so... I'd just feel better that way... but a nursery would be nice, now that I think about it."

America stood up, not liking being ignored for so long. "Of course you have to have a nursery! Trust me, you will want one when the baby gets old enough that you don't have to feed him every few hours."

"Yeah, you're right, I just haven't put much thought into it," he replied with a sheepish laugh. "Which is silly since I've been reading those books nonstop."

Francis was still pulling out all the things from his bags. Most of them were accessories: bonnets, bows, tiny little baby socks. Alfred frowned at them. "Dude, he is totally having a boy. Why did you get all this girly shit?"

Matthew squinted and looked closer, taking the delicate cloth between his fingers. "Are... are these my old baby clothes?"

"_Oui_. Obviously they will be too big for when you give birth, but after a few years they will be perfect. Just as cute as you were when you were that small." France gave a longing sigh, looking at a nightgown, remembering when his petit Mathieu would wear it.

Feeling his face flush with warmth, Canada looked down and stroked the once-familiar fabric with his thumb. "T-thank you, Francis. I really appreciate all this. Um, Alfred." He looked up at the blond towering above them. "Would you like to paint, too?"

Still a little peeved that France was cutting into his brother time, America crossed his arms. "... Fine." As long as he didn't have to talk to the frog.

Matthew pushed himself up off the floor and helped Francis gather the bags. "Well, definitely somewhere upstairs... what about the guest room right beside my bedroom? Far enough, but not too far."

They all agreed that would be a good place. Alfred started carrying things up the stairs. "Are you gonna put other stuff on the walls? Like trains? Boys love trains."

"It still might be a girl," Francis piped up from a few steps behind. "There is just as much of a chance."

"That's true, Alfred," Matthew said on the final step, hopping up with a few cans of paint and some tarp. Before Alfred could protest, though, he conceded with a, "But girls can like trains, too, so I don't think there's any harm in that."

Once they were in the room, America started moving things out and dismantling the bed. "Whatever, I want a nephew. I mean I would still be an awesome uncle if you have a girl, but seriously Matt, I would be a great uncle for a boy."

France rolled his eyes with a loud sigh. "And everything is about you? This is Mathieu's baby! It will be whatever it wants to be, boy or girl!" And a little girl would be so cute! It had been so long since he had held a baby girl.

"I just... well, at the risk of sounding cliche, I really just want it to be healthy," Matt said with a shrug, setting the cans down in the room beside his own. "I'm really okay with a boy _or_ a girl."

"Yeah, me too. You know, ten fingers, two legs, a penis. A nice healthy baby." Alfred laughed, grabbing the brushes. "Alright, now get out of here, I don't want you inhaling any paint fumes."

"Huh?" Matthew's face fell. "But I really wanted to paint, too... Can't we just open a window?"

The bespectacled blond thought about it for a minute. "... Fine. But you're taking a five minute break outside of the room every twenty minutes at least." He knew what dangerous fumes could do to babies. He had almost lost California because of all the mining way back when.

Nodding enthusiastically, Matthew rolled up his sleeves and smiled brightly at the two. "Let's get to work then!"

* * *

><p>Canada ascended the stairs at an easy pace, sipping at a glass of ice water and froze when he heard a muffled curse further down the hall. Hastily he scurried down the hardwood walkway and skidded to a stop in front of the nursery door. His eyes went wide. Francis and Alfred stood at opposite sides of the room, glaring heatedly at one another and positively covered in green and yellow flecks of paint. The walls behind them in even coats, too, were smattered with the colors. He noticed Alfred reaching for the green and rushed forward. "What on earth happened? I was only gone for a minute!"<p>

"He called me a stupid American and said I don't know anything about babies!"

"_He_ said I should just stick to wine! I know much more about raising a child than he ever could!" But since Matthew was there now, they had both stopped throwing paint.

Looking from one to the other, their flushed, scowling faces, covered with cheery green and yellow and their lower lips protruding just a tad, Matthew didn't know what to do but laugh. "I like it," he chuckled, taking a sip of water and avoiding their affronted expressions. "I think we should keep it with all of the pretty dots."

Both paint covered countries looked around the room, seeing all the different colours their fight had gotten on the wall. Francis grinned. "It looks like it was painted by one of my artists!"

"If you say so." Matthew grinned and, with one more sweep around the room, flashed them both a look. "And of course you two are going to clean the paint from the windows."


	4. Chapter 4

Canada smoothed down his suit in front of the large oak double doors and glanced to the left, nudging America when he began to fiddle with his tie. "Just stay presentable for the next hour," he mumbled with a frown.

"I always hate meeting your boss. He gives me the creeps. You should go back to that French guy. He talked out of the side of his mouth just like a cowboy!" America ran his hand through his hair, grimacing at the crunchy feel of the gel Matthew had made him wear to get the cowlick to stay down.

"Yeah yeah, French cowboys. Let's just get this over with; I'm starving." He smacked Alfred's hand when he tried to reach up again to mess with his hair and pushed the doors open, smiling at his boss standing next to America's. "Good morning," he said softly.

The graying man smiled. "Good morning Canada, America." Both bosses glanced between the countries politely.

Canada blinked, a bit surprised that America's boss had seen him at all, much less acknowledged him. He shook the feeling and cleared his throat, smiling politely. "Ah, yes, thank you for your time, both of you. I have some news. Now before we get into it, I want to assure you that it has nothing to do with politics and isn't a cause for concern." Probably. There wasn't anything wrong with hope.

Alfred nodded and went to the table but didn't sit down. He knew his boss wouldn't be too surprised about the pregnancy, because he knew to an extent that America considered the states to be his children. But it would be interesting to see what Canada's boss would say about it. Unfortunately, he had promised to let Matthew do the talking, so he didn't bring a big balloon saying "Congrats!"

It had taken the shyer nation quite a while to figure out exactly how to word it so that humans would understand. He had to force himself to keep his hands down so as not to rub the back of his neck abashedly. "I know this is going to sound a bit odd, but I'm carrying a child."

At this, Alfred could stay quiet no longer. He burst out laughing. "Don't say it like that! That just sounds like you're holding a baby! Not that you're pregnant. Oh, uh sorry, I'll uh... yeah." He got quiet under the slight glare he received from Canada.

America's boss exchanged glances with Canada's for a long moment before they both turned to Canada. "No offense or doubt intended, Canada, but you're absolutely positive that that's the case?"

"Eh? Um, well, yes, that's what I've been told."

"It's totally true! I know this shit, and he's knocked up," America finally sat down in his chair and put his feet up on the table. "We're not human; trust me, it's possible."

Canada bristled. His boss was dumbfounded and America's only sighed. They all chose not to fight that battle.

"Well... ah, congratulations."

A pregnant pause filled the room and Canada could only imagine the thousands of questions floating through their minds. He winced when his own prime minister picked what might have actually been the worst.

"Then... pardon me, but may we assume that there is a... a father?" His smile was a little strained. "Or are even immaculate conceptions a possibility with nations?"

Alfred's hands balled into a fist. "Why would he tell _you_?" If Matthew had trouble telling him, his own brother, then there was no way he would tell this jerk!

Canada pulled him back, glaring at him wildly. "What are you _doing?"_ he hissed. "I'm the one with the hormonal imbalance. You need to calm the hell down!"

"He's sticking his nose where it doesn't belong!" Alfred growled, pointing an accusing finger at the astonished Prime Minister. After all, Mattie was still insecure about who the father was, so why did this guy think he had the right to ask about it?

The prime minister's eyes were wide as saucers and he looked back and forth from America's concerned boss to Canada to the angered nation himself. He lifted his hands as if showing no threat. "I didn't mean to sound rude, I only meant to avoid war at all costs." He looked to the president for help. "Our economies aren't stable enough to properly support another war at the moment...!"

"It's fine!" Matthew assured them, and tugged Alfred back by the arm. "Calm down, Al. I didn't expect to keep it a secret from them." He turned an eye to his prime minister. "Yes, there's a father. But you won't have to worry about a war. He... doesn't exist as a nation anymore."

The two bosses glanced at each other, confused. They had never met Prussia, and didn't understand that there were a few ex-nations that were still alive. The Canadian cleared his throat. "Well, thank you for telling me. Will the father be... joining us?"

Matthew's eyes found an interesting paperclip lying on the windowsill. "Ah, no, I don't think so... h-he's very busy doing... non-nation things..." He winced. "Okay, I'm lying. He doesn't know, and I'd prefer it to stay that way. Prussia is sort of... living for life now that he has no responsibilities as a nation. He hasn't really been receptive to the idea of a child."

"Ah, I see." The President nodded, folding his hands on the table. "Well, as I understand it," he glanced at America, "when your kind has a child, that child takes up a part of the land? That would seem a rather important thing to warn the others about. They could get hostile if they think we were hiding this from them."

"I thought as much." Canada's lips twisted in a nervous smile. "So I don't mind you informing the other leaders involved as a precaution, but I'd really prefer that you insist that they not inform their nations. And if you must, just... refrain from mentioning the father, if you please."

It was quickly agreed upon, and the meeting concluded. Once the bosses were gone, Alfred clapped his brother on the back. "Well, what do you say, should we go out for lunch?"

Matthew groaned. "Oh, yes," he agreed fervently and pushed his brother as they left the building.

* * *

><p>"Liet Liet Liet!" An excited blond burst through Lithuania's front door and hopped onto the sofa beside the startled man. "Ohmigosh, you will never guess what I just heard!"<p>

Toris stared wide-eyed at his friend for a second before settling down. "Nice to see you too. I'm fine, thanks for asking," he muttered quietly, turning back to the television. It was probably just a new pair of shoes that just went on sale.

Feliks pouted but was not one to be put off. He scurried over and clambered into Lithuania's lap, grabbing him by the lapels. "Don't get huffy; you'll get your good morning. But oh my gosh Liet. I totally just heard from my boss that Germany's boss told Denmark's boss that there's a pregnant nation!"

Now _that_ was actually surprising. "That hasn't happened in... decades! Do you know who it is?" Lithuania put his hand on the blond's back, steadying him.

"Ummm..." Poland glanced up for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. "Drat. I can't remember... but, like, isn't that totally exciting? Geez, I hope the kid won't try to become an empire or anything..." He grinned at Lithuania, all pearly whites and pink lip gloss. "We should totally find out and send presents! Babies are totally grodie but sooo cute."

"Well I know you will probably want to get clothes or something, but it is much more practical to get diapers." Lithuania sighed, wondering to himself who the pregnant nation might be.

"Ohmigawsh, if it's a girl, we'll have to go all out, Liet. No girl should have to grow up without lace and frills." He shook his blond head and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "And y'know, now that there's a pregnant nation, it really makes you wonder who the baby daddy is... Maybe we should, like, ask around?"

Lithuania smiled wryly. "I don't know, Feliks... don't you think if one of us were fathering one of the land masses, it would be known by now? They probably want to keep it a secret."

"But Liiiet," Poland whined.

"Let's just wait until they decide to tell, okay?" He patted Poland's thigh when he only responded with a pout. "But that doesn't mean we can't get a present ready in the meantime."

"You're the best, Liet!" Poland leaned forward, peppering his face with cherry-flavored kisses. "So, like, let's go pick something out _now_."

* * *

><p>The murmurs spreading through Europe were of no consequence to Canada as he went about his daily life, oblivious to the fact that the whispers were all about him, a mystery to all of the gossipy nations themselves. He never found himself alone, despite the tiny ache inside of him that yearned for something more; he had little time to pay attention to <em>that<em>, what with the constant visits from his brother and both of his father figures. In fact, he could not remember a day during the ninth week of his pregnancy that he had a moment to himself. Matthew was constantly bombarded with attention from Alfred, affection from Francis and borderline-maternal concern from Arthur.

The walk to the mailbox was his only escape, as short-lived as it was, and he relished in it every day. Opening the tiny door on the chilly Saturday of that ninth week he pulled out various bills and letters, one in particular catching his eye as he walked back up the long, pine-littered drive. A familiar flag resided snugly in the top corner of the envelope and it made him smile. He loved letters from Cuba; they were always so full of warmth and personality. He slid his nail under the seal and took the letter out upon entering the front door and paused in the middle of removing his shoes, eyes widening marginally. "... Alfred!"

The country popped his head out of the kitchen, right in the middle of making mac & cheese (or KD as Matt insisted it was called) with bananas, just like Canada had asked him to ten minutes ago. "Yeah, don't worry, it'll be ready in a few minutes. This stuff isn't as instant as it likes to say it is." He held up the blue cardboard box, waving it in the air.

Matthew frowned and moved forward, holding the letter up to his brother's face. "Would you mind explaining to me how Cuba knows about... this?"

He caught sight of the brightly colored card with a large _Congratulations!_ on the front. Alfred bit his lip and scratched the back of his neck. "Oh, that's from Cuba is it? Yeah, well you see, we were... having a disagreement. And he starts talking about how bad a brother I am to you and how he would be a better brother! So I might have said something like, 'Well you don't even know Mattie is pregnant', but I was kinda hoping he didn't hear that part..."

The letter crumpled in Matthew's fist. "... You were _kind of hoping he didn't hear that part_? Dammit, Alfred!"

"What's all the shouting about?" came a curious voice down the hall. A muscle in Matthew's jaw twitched.

"Nothing, Francis. Alfred's just telling everyone and their mother that I'm pregnant."

"Not everyone! Just Cuba! And besides, it's not like it was a secret. Japan already knew! I was talking to him online and he mentioned it. And Mexico was speaking to me in Spanish and I think I heard the word for brother and baby," America defended himself retreating around the corner. Maybe if he made the strange KD banana thing Matthew would forget about the little slip up.

Matthew balked and rushed after him, grabbing his brother's sweatshirt. "J-Japan knows? Who else?" He shook Alfred back and forth. "Who else!"

Putting up his hands in defense, Alfred found himself stepping back from his normally passive brother. "Hey! Wow, calm down! I mean, everyone's boss knows, so obviously it was going to get out sooner or later!" He put his hands on Canada's shoulders, getting him to stop. "Look, Mattie, I know you wanted to keep it a secret for as long as possible, but you would have had to completely isolate yourself to stop this from getting out." America made sure that Francis was out of ear shot before adding, "Trust me, I know."

As quick as he was to anger, Matthew's eyes soon grew fretful. He gripped the sweatshirt again and threw his brother a hopeless look. "Does... does Germany know?" he asked, his voice just as low.

"I'm not sure, haven't talked to the guy for a while. But I'm serious Matt, no one seems to know who the father is. I think you're safe there." So that was what this was all about; he just didn't want Prussia to know.

Canada nodded slowly, though his eyes were still troubled. "R-right... as long as that doesn't get out, I guess..."

He was just about to reply when a startled cry sounded from behind them the kitchen. "Uh, I think France found your lunch."

* * *

><p>Though the morning had been stressful to say the least, the evening was pleasant enough. America had started a fire in the living room and Canada shared the loveseat with England, the taller of the brothers in the kitchen making another pot of coffee. "I don't know why he thinks it's necessary," Arthur sighed to Matthew, whose head was too heavy to lift from the former empire's shoulder. Matthew's lips quirked up at the corners and he watched England's fingers methodically move with the knitting needles.<p>

"Just to make you wonder," he answered in good humor. England huffed in return.

"He would, wouldn't he? He did that sort of thing as a child too, you know." Arthur plucked at a dark blue line of thread and Matthew could see the shape of a mitten beginning to form. "That silly child would hide away in another room and keep quiet for hours. It was only a blessing for the first five minutes or so, but then I would start to wonder what he was up to. And every time he would come out of the room and I would ask him what he had done, do you know what his answer always was?"

"Nothing, Artie," America said with a smile, emerging from the kitchen while trying to juggle four mugs. He put one down in front of each person, even though he knew Arthur wouldn't touch his and Francis would only have a few sips. He tapped Matthew's cup with his index finger. "Hot chocolate. I couldn't find marshmallows."

Matthew couldn't be bothered where marshmallows were concerned at the moment, though he had the feeling that come morning, he might want them very badly. "Thanks, Al," Canada said drowsily. Arthur handed him the mug of hot chocolate and, as expected, completely ignored his own.

"Don't lie to me, you cheeky brat. That's exactly what you used to say and it only made me _more _anxious."

"Mathieu, though, was always such a good boy, no?" Francis chuckled, cradling the warm porcelain in his hands. "So quiet, so sweet. You were content just to be held."

Canada blushed and kept his eyes firmly in his cup as England nodded in agreement. "Yes, the easy one. It's only because Alfred's such a loud-mouthed attention seeker that he's more recognized, dear."

"Hey!" Alfred crossed his arms, bottom lip sticking out just so. "That's mean. You thought I was the most adorable kid ever, just admit it." You wouldn't know it to see them now, but America remembered when he had just been a little thing, and his big brother had been his whole world. Of course that was before he became a teenager and got stuck on the idea of independence. It was at times like these that he started wondering what kind of a father Arthur would have been if America had ever told him about the kids. But best not to think about that, because that was dangerously close to a regret, and he never regretted anything. He was Alfred Fucking Jones, after all.

England nodded despite himself, the large needles clacking together with every motion. "Oh yes, you were terribly adorable."

"Though not as adorable as Mathieu," Francis interceded over the rim of his mug.

"I think they both had their good points," Arthur countered with a tiny glare. And then his gaze turned a bit mischievous as he glanced out of the corner of his eyes toward America. "And Alfred thought Matthew was just the cutest thing." Matthew's interest was piqued and he glanced up, though sleepy, and gave Alfred a questioning look. "Oh my yes, before we introduced you two he would call you _that pretty one from the north, _and... oh, what else..."

Alfred hid his face in his hands, face growing warm. "Arthur, please don't..."

Matthew buried his face in England's shoulder in an attempt to hide his laughter but the former empire didn't seem to have any qualms with openly smirking. "Mmm, yes, he was quite fond of you, Matthew."

"But bullying is such a terrible way to show your love," Francis said, tossing a lock of gold over his shoulder and crossing his legs. "You got that horrendous trait from Rosbif."

The tallest nation huffed, pretending to be finished with this whole conversation. They had spent many nights like this, all together, just like a normal family would. It was strange that it took Canada getting pregnant for it to happen. Alfred wondered if it could have been like this when he had been pregnant, but somehow knew it would have been different. Back then, it wouldn't have been such a happy time.

"So, how many months is this now? It is a shame that it takes so long." France sighed, taking his first and last sip of the coffee.

America tried to pretend like he didn't know all about this. "Weeks, Francis. It is measured in weeks."

England gave him an odd look and Matthew jumped in before... well, anything might happen. "Tomorrow will be the end of the ninth week," he said. "I'm gonna start showing soon, so I guess it was a little silly of me to get hysterical earlier about people finding out through word of mouth; they'll be able to figure it out soon enough with their own eyes. Sorry about that, Alfred," he said sheepishly.

He patted his brother on the back, giving him a goofy smile. "No problem. But I bet for a while people will just think you're fat."

"Alfred!" Arthur chastised, his hands pausing in their seemingly endless quest to craft the perfect pair of tiny mittens. "Why must you be so rude? Put yourself in your brother's shoes for a moment, won't you? Honestly."

"I can't, his feet are too small!" Alfred laughed as the island nation swatted him on the head with a knitting needle.

Francis, tired of being silent, decided to change the subject. "I was talking to Spain yesterday over drinks, and he was saying how excited he is for there to be another baby in our world. It really has been so long. I remember a time when there were three nations that were pregnant all at the same time! And, rumor was, all by the same man." He gave a smirk, leaning forward as if it was a secret.

England rolled his eyes. "That Rome thing again? He was impregnating _everyone _back then. Or at least trying to."

Matthew laughed nervously, trying to keep up an outward appearance of focus while internally his stomach was in knots. If France knew and Spain knew then it was only logical that the third member that made up their trio would know as well. But the famously oblivious member of their group somehow seemed to know what he was thinking, so Alfred grabbed Canada's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. It sucked how insecure his brother was, all because Prussia had been a douche about it. Although he had a feeling that Matthew had probably hardly even tried telling him.

Canada glanced over and smiled a nervous little smile at his brother, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. It would be okay, he thought as England and France bickered and America leaned comfortably against him. As long as he had this family, he and the baby would be just fine. It was a waste of anxiety to fret over it now.

He leaned closer to Alfred and sighed sleepily as Arthur threw a ball of yarn square at Francis' face.

Well, at least they would never have to worry about boredom in the household.

* * *

><p>"West! Did you clean my room again? I've told you, I can't find anything unless it's all on the floor!" He must have done it while he was sleeping too, because when he went to bed last night, it had been just the way Prussia liked it. He smelled breakfast cooking, so he went to the kitchen to bitch about it. "Why can't you just leave my shit alone for once? God. You made sausages?"<p>

Germany glanced over his shoulder, his front facing the stovetop and its sizzling occupants. "_Ja_," he answered shortly, turning back toward breakfast. He didn't so much as flinch when the albino nearly jumped on his back, chin rested on one bare, broad shoulder. "It'll be done in a few minutes, _Bruder_."

"But I'm hungry now! Hungry for your big juicy sausage." Gilbert cackled right in his brother's ear. When he pulled away, Prussia's laughter fell to a manageable level. "The sad part is you probably didn't even get the joke. How I'm related to such a tight-ass, I will never know."

Flipping one of the sausages over with a fork, Ludwig sighed. "Just because I don't humor you doesn't mean I don't understand your crassness, brother. The eggs are ready if you'll get me two plates."

"Sure, whatever. Man. You're only fun when you're drunk. Like that one time at the New Years party, fuck, I don't think even Francis could take his shirt off as fast as you did." The albino grabbed the plates, throwing them down on the table and leaning against the counter.

Ludwig carried the skillet over and slid the perfect eggs out and onto both plates, retreating as his brother leapt in to gorge himself. "I would rather keep the drunken escapade stories out of mind while I'm sober," he said tersely, rolling another crackling sausage over. He mentally recounted all of the former week's news in his head to prepare for the meeting he was to have with his boss later that afternoon as his brother prattled on about something or other with his mouth full of egg.

"... Japan's cold... recent foreign elections... nation's pregnancy..." he muttered to himself.

"What?" Prussia blurted out, a piece of egg falling on his boxer shorts. Quickly he swallowed, leaning forward on the table. "You need to enunciate your words more there. Almost sounded like you said 'nation's pregnancy'."

"Hmm?" Distractedly, Ludwig lifted the skillet of hot sausage and forked the four pieces off onto a plate. He placed the skillet in the sink and turned the heat off of the stove. "Yes, that's what I said."

The ex-nation sat back in his chair, rocking on the back two legs. "Really? Wow, it's been a while since that happened. Ha, I remember when Germania was pregnant with Holy Roman Empire. Is it a guy or chick that's knocked up?"

Germany untied the simple white apron from around his waist and draped it on a hook before settling in a chair across from Gilbert and fixing up his own plate. "Ah... for the life of me, I can't remember the name," he said with a furrow in his brow, "but I believe it's where the last winter Olympics was held. I'll have to check my notes on that, though."

It took a minute, but when it clicked, Prussia almost dropped his fork. Last winter Olympics? He was pretty sure that was in... "Canada? Is it Canada?"

Germany looked thoughtful around a forkful of egg. He chewed for a moment before nodding slowly. "That sounds familiar... I think that must be it, yes. What's wrong, brother?"

That was a good question. What was wrong? Nothing was wrong. After all, if he was the father, Matthew would have told him, so it must have been someone else. Besides, he wasn't a nation anymore, so could he even be the father at all? "Oh, I'm fine, he just used to make me pancakes is all."

"Hmm. Well, you might as well see how he is. From what I've heard, pregnancy isn't exactly an easy job." He cut up the thick sausage with a fork, tuning in to his brother's subtle nervousness with no small amount of curiosity. Swallowing, Ludwig tried to catch Gilbert's eye. "... are you feeling alright? You look pale. Well, paler than usual."

"No. Just thinking that with a kid, he won't be able to make me pancakes anymore." Although, he had stopped calling a little while ago. Ever since that weird phone call about heartbeats... baby heartbeats... shit, the poor guy had probably just wanted someone to talk to, and he had acted like a dick. But still, Canada must have had better people he could have called. Maybe he had pressed the wrong number on his speed dial?

Finishing off his portion Germany stood and walked over to the sink, turning the water on hot. "Well, we'll need to send some sort of gift. Don't tell Italy just yet or he'll go to extravagant means to arrange for something over-the-top and unnecessary. Canada wasn't even the one to have let news of the pregnancy out. It was his prime minister that informed mine. I assume that means he doesn't want it out just yet. We need to respect that, brother." At the lack of response he glanced around. "... Brother?"

A white head looked up almost guiltily. "Huh? Oh yeah, sure sounds good. But why wouldn't he want it out? Having a baby is an honor, or at least it used to be. To actually birth one of our kind is a rare thing." It was when Gilbert said things like this that he was reminded of just how old he was. He had seen so many things, learned so much. But then he had to go and ruin it. "It's fucking awesome. But whatever, if he wants to be a downer about it then let him."

"Just... don't cause him any trouble," Germany said, giving his brother a questioning glance. "He's got enough on his plate as it is without you pestering him for pancakes."

"Hey, you learn to make pancakes as good as he can, and I'll never look back." Of course, Ludwig couldn't preform the _other_ tasks that Canada did for him, but that could just stay secret. Knowing his brother, if he knew they were sleeping together he would start jumping to wild and crazy conclusions.

"I have no interest at the moment," Ludwig said flippantly, his arms deep in soapy water. "Now please stop distracting me, Gilbert; I need to prepare myself for my meeting."

Red eyes rolled to the ceiling before Prussia went up to his room to get dressed. Once he was, he couldn't stop glancing at his phone, for some reason just expecting it to start ringing. "Fuck. This is retarded." What was he scared of, really? Alright, he'd call him and just get this over with. Gilbert picked up the phone, found Canada's number, and put it to his ear.

Across the ocean a cell phone vibrated against the kitchen table, catching the attention of one curious American. Seeing as Matthew was in the bathroom for the third time that hour on account of the prune-sized kid sitting on his bladder, Alfred supposed answering the phone would be the nicest thing he could do for his poor brother. "Y'ello?" he answered cheerfully, tucking the bowl of chocolate batter in the cradle of his arm.

"Hey. Uh, who is this?" It sounded sort of like Matt's voice, but in all the times he had called him, Canada had never said 'y'ello'.

"I could ask you the same question, Gilbo, but caller ID tells all." Alfred stirred the contents of the bowl and glanced down the hallway. "Hold on a second. MATT. WHAT DO YOU WANT IN THESE BROWNIES?"

"Carrots!" came the quieter response and Alfred nodded, setting the bowl down and traipsing over to the fridge.

"This is the United States of America speaking. What can I do you for, Gilly?"

Oh fuck, it was his goddamn brother. "You can give the phone to Matt actually. That's why I called his phone. To talk to him." He was sure that talking to this idiot for long enough could lower his own awesomeness, a very hard thing to do.

"Mattie's busy at the moment," came Alfred's cheery reply as he licked the batter-smothered spoon before grabbing a knife, a cutting board, and a bag of carrots from the fridge. "May I take a message? Or, you know, just hang up and you never call again?"

"Oh, so now you're in charge of who he talks to? And you're the one who's always talking about fucking independence and shit. Just give him the phone, I need to talk to him, alright?" Why the hell did America have to be the one to pick up? This conversation sucked ass.

"Why don't you go ahead and shove _your_ phone- Hey, Mattie! Back so soon?"

"Uh..." Canada stopped in the middle of the doorway, blinking. "... What are you doing with my phone?"

Gilbert squeezed his cell in his hand, and started yelling, "I can fucking hear him you asshole, just give him the fucking phone!" Hopefully he was loud enough for Canada to hear him. If not, then he would just hang up and call back later. Or maybe he wouldn't call later. After all, he was just being stupid, there was no real point in calling in the first place. He just wanted to congratulate him.

Alfred winced and smothered the receiver with his palm, his gaze turning serious. "It's him," he said quietly, and Matthew's eyes widened.

"Y-yeah? Um... w-what does he want?"

"He didn't say. You want me to hang up on him?" Alfred looked ready to do it, too, his thumb already on the little red button. Matthew nibbled on his lower lip and glanced from his brother to the phone. "I... I'll talk to him."

Gilbert let out a sigh when he heard the small voice coming out of the hand set. "Finally. God, what are you, screening your calls now?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I was... um, in the bathroom." Matthew nervously tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and shuffled around the counter. "What's up, Gilbert?"

Oh yeah, the reason he called... Prussia tried to figure out how to word it right. "Uh well, I was wondering... you see, I heard that you were... well, pregnant. Just wondering if it was true or not."

Matthew's breath caught in his throat and the methodical sound of a knife slicing through carrot stopped as Alfred turned to watch. Matthew put a hand over his chest and tried to calm himself, finding it ridiculous how worked up he was getting about a question. "W-well... um, yes," he answered quietly, scratching at the wooden counter top anxiously. "Why do you ask?'

So it was true. Prussia nodded to himself. Not that it mattered. If Matthew didn't tell him he was the father, then he couldn't be the father, right? "Oh, just wondering. Um congrats, I guess." He didn't ask how far along he was. He didn't want to know, he didn't want to do the math, trying to figure it out.

"Y-yeah. Thanks." The conversation ended abruptly, awkwardly, and he realized it was the first time in weeks he had spoken to Gilbert, weeks since the heartbeat incident. How would he react if Matthew told him that right now that the shrimp-sized child had begun to _hear _things with the forming inner workings of its ears? "So... is there anything else?" He hoped with all of his being that there wasn't.

"Oh, er no, I guess not." Prussia said rather lamely. "Well, hope everything goes well."

"Yeah. Me too." He was quick to turn of the phone and practically throw it onto the counter, expelling his tension in one long, shaky breath. He turned to Alfred's look of cautious concern and smiled wanly. "Okay... let's finish those brownies."

* * *

><p>Francis put down his glass of wine at the sound of the doorbell. It was rather late for someone to be visiting, unless it was someone who wanted to party. But upon looking through the peep hole, all he saw was his dear friend Gilbert. He opened the door, offering a wide smile. "<em>Bonjour<em>! I hope you are not looking for beer again; you know I despise the stuff."

The Prussian grunted and brushed past, collapsing on Francis' long white sofa. "Yeah, well, even though your stuff is shit, I'm feeling like boozing tonight and Toni's out getting laid. I knew you'd be the only lonely bastard I could come to."

The blond nation shrugged and tucked his hair behind an ear. "_D'accord_, but I know how much you drink so you are only getting the cheap wine." Francis went to go get a bottle. "And don't you dare put your dirty feet on my sofa!"

Gilbert, already having done so, moved them to the table and wiped off the dirt his boots had left. "Damn. Your house is too clean. Seriously, how could someone live in this place?"

Francis returned from the kitchen with a bottle and shook his head, waves of gold tossed piteously. "_Mon cher_, the only appealing messiness is that of a lover after a passionate night." He handed the bottle to his friend, knowing better than to offer an expensive glass when it would only be horrifically abused.

Prussia grabbed the bottle and tried to get the cork off, then looked around for something to get it out with. "Yeah whatever. I just want to get fucking pissed right now."

Francis reclined on his plush chair and watched Gilbert rummaging through his pristine living room, admiring his posterior with fond amusement. "You sound troubled."

"Yeah, kinda had a scare, but not anymore. Hey, you're close to Canada. Know who the father is?" Not that he needed to know of course, because really there was no way it was his kid. Most of the time they used protection anyway.

France's grin froze on his face. He allowed a flippant chuckle to fall from his lips, though his eyes slowly began to harden. "Canada, you say? Why do you ask?"

He shrugged, finally getting the cork out. "I was just wondering. We were fucking for a while, but he didn't say anything so I can't be the father. So I was just thinking you might know. You know what, screw it. I don't care, it doesn't matter, just forget I asked."

A muscle in France's jaw ticked and he worked to quell a rising fit of unpleasantness that brewed inside of his temples. "Ah? And did you think to ask him that particular question, my careless friend?"

"What are you talking about? It was really awkward, alright? So I didn't ask something like that. He would have told me if I was the father anyway." Prussia took a long swig from the bottle and wiped his mouth off. "What kind of guy would he be if he didn't tell the father, am I right? That'd be fuckin' low."

And just like that, before Francis could even register and dictate his own actions he was on his feet, his fist colliding intimately with Prussia's jaw. The white wine went flying and rolled across the rug, spilling its contents onto the hardwood floor beneath. France paid it no heed. Instead he wrenched Gilbert closer by the collar, his face grim.

"What the fuck?" Gilbert pushed back, rubbing his chin. "What the hell is wrong with you? I swear to God Francis, if you weren't my friend you would be dead for that!"

But the French nation would not have it. He gripped Gilbert by the wrist and jerked him forward again, near to bearing his teeth. "You pompous piece of shit," he growled, his accent bleeding heavily through his words. "If you _were _the father I would not blame him for keeping it a secret from you. I knew you had become irresponsible and lazy, but this?" He threw the other back, wishing suddenly that it could have been a couple hundred years earlier, so that he could still have a sword nestled against his hip. "This is disgusting."

Prussia ripped the hand off of his arm, backing up, in a defensive position. "Oh, like you should be talking! How many fuck buddies do you have right now? It's not my problem if one of mine got pregnant! We're nations; we're not meant to be monogamous! And before today I didn't even fucking _know_ he was pregnant... he would have told me before then! Why wouldn't he? _Verdammt_, Francis! I knew you were protective of that kid, but fuck!"

"The difference," France said, attempting to quell the anger coursing through his bloodstream, "is that none of my lovers are with child. Did you even think to ask specifically if it is yours?" At Prussia's blank look he grit his teeth. "You pompous fool. How loose do you think Mathieu is with his body?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know? I never asked him about other lovers!" He sat down heavily on the couch, still cupping his chin. "Fuck, I just figured he would tell the father. I would!" Now, with much less confidence, Gilbert looked up at his friend, getting desperate. "Wouldn't you? You don't think I'm actually the father?"

Francis tried and failed at keeping his ferocious anger intact and at the look it began to dissipate. He sighed and sat near his friend, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I am not certain, but the Mathieu I know has not quite taken after my polyamorous ways. I cannot see him taking a multitude of lovers into his bed."

Now that the albino thought about it, it had taken a _lot_ of alcohol to get Canada to agree to have sex with him the first time, and he still had seemed awkward about it. "But he wouldn't just be having sex with me, would he? He's really close to America. You can't tell me they haven't done it before." ... Even_ if_ Matthew never had any lube or condoms at his house... and Gilbert always had to bring some... fuck.

The French nation watched Gilbert's discomfited expression grow more sour and quirked a brow. "You don't seem pleased at the possibility."

"Yeah, no shit. Fuck, if I am actually the dad, I was such a dick! I'm usually so awesome, and _mein Gott_, I told him to call someone who gives a fuck." He put his white head in his hands, groaning. What if that whole heartbeat phone call had been his way of trying to tell him? No wonder Matthew hadn't said anything!

"Hmm?" Francis blinked at that, a spark of his previous anger flickering in his stomach. His fingers balled subtly into fists. "And... what exactly did Mathieu say to deserve such a response, Gilbert?"

Noticing the hard tone in his old friend's voice, Prussia looked up. "Don't, Francis. Just don't. I didn't know, how the hell was I supposed to know? He was babbling about babies' heartbeats or some shit. He sounded crazy! I just figured he was drunk or something and didn't really know what he was saying. You can't get pissed at me for that- you would have done the same thing if someone called you out of the blue and started talking about some random shit that you don't care about."

"If it was someone important to me," France replied coolly, "I would have done no such thing. Even if you don't consider him to be a lover, that sweet boy could never deserve such harsh words. I wouldn't be surprised if you were the father and he wanted nothing more to do with you." Which was a lie, all things considered. Knowing Matthew, he would likely still feel the need to bring whoever the father was into his life, or at least the child's.

"Shut the fuck up. Don't hold yourself on such a pedestal. You talk about love like you know all about it, but don't forget, I have often slept with your 'lovers', as you call them. If it's not your hated England, then you wouldn't want anything to do with them after." Prussia stood up, quickly passing the room, then stopped. "Can I borrow your private jet? West is using his and refuses to give me one of my own."

Francis gave him a dry look from the corner of his eye. "You do not plan to sweep him off of his feet and propose, do you?"

The ex-nation rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Like I would ever fucking propose to anyone. I'm just gonna ask him if it's mine. There's no point in worrying about it if I don't know for sure, right?"

_Wrong, _Francis thought to himself but waved a hand, leaning over to pick up the bottle of spilled wine. "Do as you please." He might have threatened the retreating Prussian further if he wasn't acutely aware of the two fiercely protective nations still nestled in Canada with their young charge. A smirk curled on his lips.

He would have to phone England about it later.

* * *

><p>Matthew sighed blissfully, stretching his arms high above his head. The house was miraculously silent; in fact, the only sound he could hear was the hum of the refrigerator, the tiny crackles of the flame in the fireplace, and occasional thumps as Kumajirou moved from one comfortable location to another. He poured himself a glass of carrot juice and grabbed a box of Oreos, padding over to the living room with them. He settled onto the sofa with a sigh of contentment.<p>

Somehow, _somehow_ he had been able to convince Alfred and Arthur to go grocery shopping without him, too tired to leave the house, but just energetic enough to fight their argument about leaving him home alone. Finally, almost needing to literally shove his dubious family out the door, Matthew was able to enjoy the peace and quiet of his own home for the first time in weeks. He soaked an Oreo in the juice for a moment before sticking it in his mouth, smiling as the cookie slid down his throat. He bent over, reaching for his book on the coffee table when the sound of tires crunching against gravel outside met his ears. He blinked. There was no way Alfred and Arthur could have traveled down the mountain, gone shopping for a decent amount of food and come back up so quickly, no matter _how _protective they were. He pushed himself to his feet and tossed the remaining fourth of the cookie back into the box before sliding over to the front door. Canada was just about to peek through the peephole when a series of loud bangs against the surface startled him and he hastily threw it open.

For some reason, Gilbert was a little surprised to see Canada so suddenly. So, for a few seconds, they stared at each other, eyes wide. But then his mouth caught up with his mind. "Am I the father?" Prussia blurted out, leaning against the door frame.

Matthew's heart leapt into his throat and all he could do was stare, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. This was exactly what he didn't want. He remembered very suddenly what had happened on the phone just weeks prior and instinctively stepped back. "Uhh..."

"I have to know. Am I the father or not? If I'm not then I can leave if you want me to, but I gotta know. Am I the father?" Gilbert was a little worried that he was scaring the blond nation, but he didn't know how else to ask. If he had tried to do it slowly, he might have lost his nerve.

When the German made to step past the threshold, Matthew opened his mouth, his intention to lie, but Kumajiro stole any thunder he might have had. The bear crawled out from under the coffee table and stood near Matthew, raising up on his legs to face the intruder. His scent was recognizable, but familiarity wasn't on Kumajirou's list of priorities. Matthew's scent, reeking of unease, was. "K-Kuma, it's okay," the blond said weakly, but his bear seemed to pay him no mind, staring at the white-haired man.

Prussia's eyes went wide, watching the small bear. Yes, it was small and usually lazy, but it was still a fucking bear. "Matt, please don't sic your bear on me. I'm not gonna hurt you or anything. I just want to fucking know if I'm gonna be a dad. God!"

"I-I'm not... this is weird behavior for him!" Matthew didn't mean to avoid the question, but he certainly didn't want to answer it either. Okay, he thought hurriedly, the pros and cons of lying about the whole thing. Pros: he never has to know. If you tell him he's not, he'll walk out of your life and you can raise the baby by yourself. Cons: ... he'll walk out of your life and you'll have to raise the baby by yourself. Well, not really, he argued with himself as the seconds ticked on. He'd have Alfred and Arthur and Francis. And... and probably Cuba and.. well, there were plenty of nations who were good with children. He didn't need Gilbert. He would be fine on his own. And besides, if he told the truth, Gilbert would probably walk out anyway. It would be a lot less painful just to say no and let Gilbert walk away believing that he wasn't the father than to tell him the truth and the man walk out regardless. He didn't need that kind of pain.

"Yes," his lips answered quietly, not seeming to receive his brain's message.

The albino used the excuse of still being worried about the polar bear attacking him to let the information sink in. He was going to be a father.

...Alright. He could deal with that.

"Okay... Cool. Can we talk somewhere where that thing won't try to bite me? That would be so unawesome."

Matthew's eyes snapped forward. His lips parted in surprise. Talk? Gilbert didn't... talk about things. He avoided _talking _talking as much as possible. As far as Matthew was concerned, the most Gilbert had ever wanted to say to him was "I'm awesome", "Make me some pancakes" and "Let's fuck".

"Kuma, come here," he beckoned softly. The bear tilted his head in Matthew's direction, though his eyes remained on Gilbert. "Come on," Matthew coaxed, holding his arms out. The bear sniffed and turned, ambling up to his human. He didn't know why the man acted like he wanted to pick him up, though. Even bears knew better than to get too close to a belly full of cub. He resolved himself to sitting by Canada's feet, all four paws touching the floor.

Finally, Prussia could relax. "Alright. Awesome. Can I come in?" He took a step forward anyway, even though he hadn't yet been invited.

"S-sure," Matthew offered, running a hand through his hair nervously. All sorts of scary thoughts entered his mind when Gilbert walked in. He was much too calm to be normal, and wanting to talk? That was just plain off. Was Kumajirou being protective because he sensed something weird about Gilbert? He looked down, and sure enough, the bear kept a tense eye on the visitor. Was he trying to lull Canada into a false sense of security before... before doing something awful? Slowly, Matthew's arms slid around his own stomach, watching Gilbert warily. "Make yourself comfortable..."

Fat chance of that happening. Still, Gilbert walked into the living room, trying not to think of the time they fucked on this couch. That had been a good time, but it probably wasn't good to be thinking of sex right now. They had to talk. And he wasn't going to fuck this up like that phone call. "So... you've been good? Shit, that sounded stupid. Um, so you're really sure I'm the father?"

Seemingly, Matthew's mind was on the same wavelength as Francis' in this case. He frowned, the arms about him tightening. "I haven't slept with anyone else in decades, so yeah, I'm pretty sure," came his snippy reply before he could stop it. A little part at the back of his mind told him to apologize for his rudeness but he ignored it and stared pointedly away.

The albino was taken aback by the snappy tone. He had never heard that from Canada before. He held up his hands in defense, giving a small laugh. "Alright, I believe you. Seriously? Decades? I mean, sorry, never mind. Um, so how long? Did it happen last time we... you know?" Oh shit, they didn't do it when he was pregnant did they? What if he had hit the baby or something?

At that Canada lowered his eyes, rubbing at a cheek that matched its twin in pink. "... N... no, one of the times before," he mumbled. "I'm..." But Matthew quickly stopped himself. To finish that sentence with 'ten weeks along' wouldn't matter to the former kingdom, and he didn't want to have a repeat of the heartbeat conversation.

But Prussia seemed to be waiting. "...What? You're what?" Sure, normally he didn't listen to others, but this was something serious, and even the awesome ex-nation could appreciate the importance of good communication.

Shaking his head Matthew gave him a strained smile. "Nothing. I'm just... uh, thirsty. I mean, I have a drink, but I didn't get to drink it since you came, so... Would you like something to drink?" He turned and scurried into the kitchen quickly, slowing himself just enough not to look like he was avoiding the other. "I have carrot juice, milk, ginger ale, water..."

"I thought we were talking and shit." Now that Matthew seemed to be trying to avoid it, Prussia just got more determined. "I mean, you're pregnant with my kid, and you haven't told me for however many weeks -not that I blame you- and we need to fucking talk about it!" Gilbert leaned back on the couch, putting his feet up.

The meek nation was quiet in the kitchen for a long moment before his voice drifted out. "... Does that mean you're not thirsty?"

The Prussian laughed loudly. "Sure, please."

Matthew didn't know what to get the German now that his home was completely empty of liquor (except the cooking wine; France had not allowed anyone, even a violent England, to remove it from the cupboard). He poured a glass of milk and made his way into the living room, handing it over and sitting on a chair, far enough from Gilbert to be comfortable.

Prussia sipped at the milk, glancing around the room. Shit, now that he was there, what were they supposed to talk about? "You don't look fat yet. I mean pregnant... uh, yeah, not fat. Sorry. Do you know if it's a boy or a girl yet?"

Matthew didn't know what to make of the first statement, but it certainly stopped him from reaching over into the pack of Oreos. "Um, n-no... I wasn't planning on finding out. I can't just go to a doctor and get a sonogram." He fiddled with a lock of his hair, avoiding Gilbert's eyes. Matthew pulled Kumajirou into his lap and held him close. "And I won't, um... I won't really look pregnant for a little while. It's only week ten." He blushed and buried his face in the white fur, not caring if it seemed childish.

Prussia nodded, drinking more of the milk. "Alright. Ten weeks... so the last time you made me pancakes? Yeah, I guess I didn't wear a condom that time. Sorry." Fuck, over two months already. "Anyway, what are we gonna do when the baby is born?"

"We?" Canada blurted out before he could stop himself. He looked mortified immediately after and only readjusted his hold on the polar bear when it switched position in his arms.

Gilbert lifted an eyebrow at the outburst. "Uh, yeah, we. You are gonna let me in the kid's life, right? Because that would be pretty bitchy, keeping me out." After all, even having a small part in raising one of their own was an honor.

The tic in Matthew's jaw should have tipped him off halfway through that sentence. Unfortunately, it hadn't. The normally complacent nation's eyes narrowed and Kumajirou tensed in his arms. "Oh? And how exactly do you plan to do so across the damn _ocean, _Prussia?"

Fuck, why did he seem to be on the defensive so much lately? "It's not my fault I live so far away. And I can stay over for a week every once in a while. This is why we need to talk about it! Decide what we're gonna do!"

But Canada remembered all too well the feeling of certain former empires and their come-and-go attitudes throughout the most important stages of childhood. He rubbed warily at an eye with the heel of his palm. "It would have been easier just to keep this a secret," he mumbled to himself before looking through his glasses at the albino. "I'm not going to put a child through that, Gilbert. It isn't stable and it only causes insecurities."

He rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Come on, we're not humans. It's pretty normal for one of our kind to sort of raise themselves. Hell, most of us don't even meet anyone 'til we're a few years old. No one remembers what happened before that, but we seem to turn out fine." But Gilbert could see that Canada was still determined. "I hardly ever saw Germania when I was a kid, practically raised by the knights. And I'm not insecure."

"This is different, Gilbert," he said, his voice gentler than he'd meant to make it sound. "This isn't a nation that just appears. This is a _baby _that's going to be born into the world, completely dependent and helpless. The first few years of a child's life are the most important, and... and I don't want to put my baby through that." Matthew found it nearly impossible to even look near the older nation. "But it's okay... I mean, it'll be easier for you, and I have Alfred, so... so everything will work out."

"What do you mean everything will work out?" Prussia practically growled. "What, so you think just having America will be fine? You don't want me in the kid's life at all? That's fucking cruel, Canada."

Matthew glared over Kumajirou's head. "Cruel? You're a grown man, Gilbert. You can handle shirking a responsibility, I'm sure. It's not _your_ feelings I'm concerned about." Matthew took a deep breath. "This... whatever part you had in it, it's been done. I'm not holding you responsible. I won't put my child through... trying to figure out why we don't live together, why other children have parents that love each other when... when his or hers won't." He shook his head resolutely. "I want more for him or her than a glimpse of their biological father whenever he feels like it, so pardon me if I'm not being sensitive to your _feelings_ on the matter."

"Oh, and wondering why they only have one parent is better? Without me there wouldn't even _be_ a kid, seeing as you haven't fucked anyone else in decades!" Gilbert's red eyes were wild, almost like in the old days, right before he went into battle. "And who says I would hardly be around? Germany's private jet can get me here in a matter of hours! God, if I knew you were going to be such a bitch about it, I would have rather gone on thinking America was the father or something! Since it seems you would rather him be the dad."

"At least he enters relationships for keeps!" Matthew snapped, anger masking whatever hurt he may have felt. "When the baby grows up, you think _you'll_ be the one to come to her first hockey game, or his first hunt? Are you going to protect her from boys like you, or teach him about the awkward changes that are all a part of growing up? Can you promise any of that?"

Prussia opened up his mouth to yell back, but stopped. Fuck, this is not how he had wanted this visit to go. He wasn't exactly sure _how_ he had wanted it to go, but it wasn't this. Instead he took a big sigh, looking away. "God. I'm not going to fight about this right now. We have like what, seven months to figure out what we are going to do, right? Look, how about I stay over for a week or something and we see how it goes. Obviously neither of us want to back down, so let's not think about that right now." He held out his hand, a small, forced smile on his face. "Deal?"

But Matthew wasn't so sure. He regarded the hand warily for a moment before glancing up into Gilbert's eyes. "... The night, at least. We'll see." He didn't really feel like touching any part of Gilbert at the moment. Which reminded him... "Ah, and I don't plan to sleep with you. Ever again. If that changes your mind."

To try to change the mood, Gilbert pouted. "Not even a little? Come on, so not awesome!" But at the look he got from Canada, he cleared his throat and put on a serious face. "I'm joking. It doesn't change things. I'm still the father, and it's a thing of fucking pride if nothing else."

Matthew let Kumajiro down and shifted in his seat, watching the bear move toward the kitchen. "It's fine for you to think that way," he said quietly, "but don't treat the baby as a matter of national pride. At least... pretend that they matter to you when they're born, okay?"

"I said 'if nothing else'. Obviously that isn't the only reason I want to be a part of the kid's life. Seriously, Matt, you have to lighten up a bit. You're having a baby! Isn't this supposed to be a happy time?" Prussia watched the white bear walk past him warily, but calmed down when it just went to a cushion on the floor and laid down.

"I _am _happy," the younger nation said lowly and stood. "And I'd be happier if I didn't have an entire future of difficult questions to find answers to just because you won't take my offer to walk away. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go make a call."


	5. Chapter 5

"God Arthur, why are you shopping? We do not need gravy for every meal! And mashed potatoes aren't a food group! What we need are fucking _hamburgers_! And why doesn't Canada sell alcohol in grocery stores?" Alfred was pushing the cart and kept jerking it away from England every time he tried to grab it. Seriously, it wasn't like he was gonna run into anything!

"I don't know why you're complaining about alcohol," England sniffed, conveniently ignoring the criticisms aimed toward him. "You're not to have any in Matthew's home. You know better." He grabbed a carton of milk, one regular, one chocolate, just in case one of Matthew's sudden cravings kicked in.

America huffed, almost running over a lady. "Just because there's beer in the house doesn't mean he has to drink it. If he tried to drink alcohol I would kick his ass, but that has nothing to do with _me_ having some! You can't get drunk by association."

"No, but it's a foul temptation. Besides, without all of the carbohydrates, you may actually seem a little more trim and fit." He pulled the cart down the vitamin aisle in the way he knew irritated the American and looked high and low for prenatal vitamins.

Once again jerking the cart away, Alfred tried hitting England in the shins. "I have the best abs in the world and you know it. You're just jealous." But then he was distracted by the snack aisle, wondering what kinds Matt would like before grabbing ketchup chips.

Arthur found him again after grabbing three different brands of vitamins and dropped them in the cart, one impressive eyebrow lifting. "Ketchup chips, Alfred? Really?"

"Yeah, Mattie loves them, even if they are really weird. So weird, I don't even have them; they're only in Canada." He also grabbed some bags of a better flavor for himself.

England shook his head and sighed. "You two and your taste buds. These crisps aren't healthy at all. Why don't we get healthier snacks instead? It would certainly do _you _some good." He eyed America's muscular form with a tisk. "Such a shame you grew up to be so... massive."

Alfred pointedly looked at him as he grabbed more chips. "If you mean massive muscles then yes. Oh! Unless you meant massive in the pants. Because I totally am." He gave a toothy grin, doing a small hump in the air.

Arthur rolled his eyes and swatted Alfred's rear, ignoring the firmness he felt in that fleeting half-second. "Massive in the pants _here_, you daft thing," he chuckled, reaching for a box of granola snacks.

"Oh, Arthur, I didn't know you were into spanking. Maybe we could try that sometime!" America laughed, wiggling his butt at the elder.

Arthur sniffed and feigned nonchalance, his nose in the air. "You're only proving that you're simply a naughty child." He eyed the wiggling posterior and cleared his throat, turning away. "Daft twit."

"You like it." Alfred smirked before taking out his vibrating phone. "It's Mattie," he said, garnering Arthur's attention before he opened it up and put it to his ear. "Hey, what's up? Suddenly had a craving for pickled eggs or something?" America laughed lightly into the phone.

_"Al, come home," _came the voice on the other line, stressed and cautious.

That sent the other completely on edge. "What? Why? Is something wrong? You're not feeling any weird pains are you? Could it just be gas? Because that's normal." He waved England off when the island nation asked what was going on.

There was a pause on the other line, which Alfred could easily imagine was Matthew shaking his head. "_No, it's not that... Gilbert came over_."

Eyes going wide, Alfred gripped the phone tightly. "We'll be there as soon as we can." He hung up, and grabbed England's hand. "Come on, we have to go! Forget the groceries, serious emotional situation at home!"

In any other circumstance England might have argued, but now was neither the time nor place. He kept up Alfred's speed, and were he not consumed with sudden fright, he might have taken notice of the hand enveloping his. Once out of the store and in the privacy of America's pickup, he buckled himself in with questions flying. "What's going on? Is Matthew hurt? Is it the baby? What do we need to do?"

"Gilbert came by." The young nation said, only to receive silence. Oh, that's right; England didn't know. "He's the father."

"Oh..." The sound came out of England's mouth in a fashion that was not unlike someone who was about to vomit. He couldn't say he was surprised, but... "I'm going to have to speak with that boy about his taste in men," he mumbled, rubbing his temples. The truck lurched out of the parking lot and sped down the outer road toward the highway. He didn't even think to tell the young nation to slow down. "What else do I need to know, Alfred?"

Of course, he must have just meant with Matthew, but America's mind went to his kids, how at least three of them were fathered by the nation sitting beside him right now. God, why was Canada's pregnancy bringing up all this stuff from his past. Out loud, he mumbled a quick, "Nothing, that's it," before speeding through a stop sign.

England's eyes widened and he gripped America by the elbow. "A-alright, I didn't mind a bit of speed, but that was dangerous! What if we got hit? Or arrested? Let's not give that poor boy any more things to fret about, shall we?" He must be getting old. In his pirate and punk days, far more dangerous feats were commonplace. At this point in his life, he just wanted to arrive alive. "Alfred, you're not slowing down..."

"There are never any cops down here, and I'm awesome at driving! Just take a chill pill, Artie." After all, he wanted to get there as soon as possible, so he could kick that ex-nation's white ass. What was he thinking, showing up all of the sudden?

"If we die, your country is thenceforth banned from using my union jack as a trendy fashion!" England growled as they turned off onto a dirt road that lead up the steep mountain climb to Matthew's secluded home. The trees and rocks seemed do go on forever as they climbed steadily higher, and with the height became steadily more anxious about Matthew.

Alfred made the trip in half the time it would normally take. As soon as they were pulling into the driveway, he saw the black car that made him want to punch something. "Alright, let's go defend my little brother! You be my back up."

"Who's the former empire here?" England groused, slamming the door to the truck after hopping out.

At the door, Alfred slammed it open and walked inside, Arthur following behind him. "Told you, back up." The house seemed quiet... "Mattie! We're home! Scream if you're being ravaged by that white idiot!" he yelled out to the large house.

A little noise followed and England tried to peak around Alfred's "massive body". There was a distinct sound of shuffling and someone running down the stairs, and Kumajirou wandered into view just before Matthew slid into the front hall, his eyes wide and hair askew. "Shut up, Alfred!" he whispered loudly.

"Why? We want him to leave don't we? So I should be yelling more. We don't like strangers in the house! Better get out now before I get my gun!" Even if he technically wasn't allowed to have one in Canada, but who gave a fuck about the little things?

England brushed past America and took Canada by the shoulders. "Are you alright? Did something happen?" The glint in his eyes spoke volumes of exactly what sort of dark magic he could conjure had any harm been done. "Matthew?"

"W-what? No, nothing happened, we just... talked?"

The man in question walked down the stairs, hands in pockets. "What, you think I would try and hurt a pregnant person? I'm way too awesome for that." Crap, he had just dealt with one over-protective nation in the past 24 hours... now he had to deal with two more? This was not going to end well...

Matthew made a noise as England tugged him forward, having to remind himself after a dazed moment that this nation, far smaller than he though England may have been, had once ruled over some of the strongest nations Matthew had ever met. He got the curious vibe that England may have been considering slinging him over his shoulder and dragging him off as he had ages ago following fights with France. "What are you doing here, Prussia?" he asked tersely.

"Seeing the guy I knocked up. Trying to be a responsible parent. Got a problem with that?" Prussia stayed at the bottom of the stairs, glaring at the other two countries. He should have guessed that at least America was going to show up, considering how happy Matthew seemed with him. Probably wishing he was the father.

"I certainly do if he doesn't want you," England bit back. Matthew's eyes widened and he wriggled free of England's iron grip, holding his hands up.

"I didn't say that!" he insisted to both parties, his face turning red.

But, as usual, Canada was ignored. Gilbert walked up to England, nose to nose. "Don't you think I fucking know that? But I still have a choice, and at least _I_ wouldn't force my kid into fighting for independence."

England's eyes narrowed. "I was with my children until they decided to revolt. Somehow I doubt you'll be able to say the same thing."

"Guys, stop!" Matthew said, wanting to intervene but not really knowing how. He didn't have a hockey stick at the moment.

Instead, Alfred was the one to stop them. He muscled his way between the two, unhappy at not being in the fight. "Just stop it. It isn't good for the baby with all this fucking stress! So Arthur, back down, and Prussia, go home."

"Fuck that!" Gilbert practically yelled. "Matt said I could stay at least the night, so that's what I'm gonna do!"

Arthur looked ready to argue, and Alfred seemed even less likely to back down, but Matthew wouldn't have it. He reached into the collision and grabbed the first thing his hands found, which happened to be Alfred's shirt, and tugged, sufficiently upending both his brother and the argument. "Stop, okay? Gilbert, you can stay," he said firmly, "but I think it's a bad idea for everyone to be here for long... there are enough fights as it is when we all like each other."

They all seemed to want to argue, but apparently what the pregnant nation said -when he was heard- was law. That's why, five minutes later, Gilbert was looking for a spare room he could sleep in. He remembered that most of them were upstairs, along with Canada's room.

The first door was a bathroom. The second door was obviously where England was staying. The next door...

He walked in the mostly empty room, mainly only the walls were finished. But it was obviously the nursery, from the colours on the walls, to the little ducks on the trim. He snorted a bit at the paint job. No doubt the work of that idiot American. The sound of footsteps approaching behind him caught Gilbert's attention. Matthew caught his sharp, quiet gaze and held his ground though he wanted nothing more than to look away. "Your room is over here," he murmured, shuffling further down the hall.

"Alright." He left the room, noticing now that it was right beside Canada's room. "So, if you hadn't gotten pregnant, would we still be like before? I mean, what fucked it all up? If it was just about the heartbeat phone call, I'm sorry about that, but I had no idea!"

Matthew stiffened and made himself shrug, pushing open the door over to the other side of his. "I just... I have to think differently now. Before it was just you and I and we had a mutual agreement to keep it simple and unattached." He stepped aside so Gilbert could enter the room. "I can't just let it carry on the way it is. The baby would never learn how to..." But he stopped himself, catching the words before they could leave the heavy corners of his heart so easily. "We just can't. Good thing it was just sex; you can easily find another partner now."

For some reason, that made Gilbert a little pissed. "Yeah, I can just go fuck anyone I want. Because that's all I fucking care about, right?" He went in his room and closed the door.

Matthew stared owlishly at the door before swallowing and walking back down the stairs to be folded into his family's worried silence.

Inside the room, Gilbert pulled out his phone and dialed home. There was no answer, which was a good thing because he really didn't feel like talking to his brother right now. "Hey West, I'm at Canada's right now. You know, the pregnant nation. Yeah, turns out I'm the father. Um, I'll be staying here for a while, so feed Gilbird, he's too awesome to starve. Bye!"

* * *

><p>It wasn't early in the morning by any means- the sun had been up for hours, and the three blond nations had already been out for groceries. Through the window was a perfect view of not only the vast backyard, but the wide open mountain range beyond, white-tipped green mountains and bright blue sky. But what caught his attention was the scene on the ground below; America acting all macho and hacking at a fallen tree with an admittedly impressive ax and Matthew on the ground below an apple tree, holding a wide basket under England, who was only half-visible and standing on a ladder. From the waist up he was hidden in the leaves of the tree and, one by one, drops of red fell into Canada's basket.<p>

Prussia gave a stretch when he got up and looked out the window to see that exact scene. Crap, that meant they were still there. Why couldn't they just leave, instead of always being around? All he wanted was to talk to Canada about everything that had happened, and, more importantly, what was _going_ to happen. The prospect of having to do that while being ganged up by two overprotective nations -three if you counted Francis- was a very not-awesome idea.

He pulled on his shirt and went downstairs to the kitchen, not ready to go outside just yet. Gilbert sipped at a cup of coffee, every once in a while glancing at the window to see the domestic scene outside.

Unaware of the eyes on him, Matthew laughed, trotting forward to catch a couple of extra apples the Briton had knocked over with his pole a little farther away. "Watch out, Arthur! You're losing focus!"

"Ah! Sorry, Matthew," England said sheepishly, quickly taking his eyes from the shirtless American wielding that wicked blade, his face pink. "I was just, erm... looking for better apples over there."

"Sure you were, just like last week when you were just trying to get a stain off my pants." Alfred laughed loudly, pausing to wipe sweat from his brow. "Hey Mattie, toss me one of those apples, will you? You always grow the best ones."

With a grin Canada set the basket down and threw one at his brother, who caught it in a gloved hand. "Damn straight," he laughed.

"Ah... are you sure that isn't too heavy?" Arthur called from atop the ladder, his expression one of potential concern. Matthew glanced up in puzzlement for a moment before his eyes widened.

"Oh, I'm fine," he insisted, lifting the basket up. It was heavy, but he could take it. "It's not so bad, even though I don't have monster strength like _some_ people. I only have to watch myself when I get further along, I think."

Finally venturing out in the sun, Gilbert walked up to the three, almost immediately getting glares from two of them... one holding an ax. "Morning losers."

Alfred threw the ax over his shoulder, the weight resting perfectly on his tanned skin. "Who the hell are you calling a loser? You're the one who isn't a country anymore, but still ended up getting my bro pregnant."

"Alfred," Matthew said warningly, a frown turning his lips downward a the corners. To Gilbert he nodded in acknowledgment and held up an apple. "Good morning, Gilbert. Hungry?"

"Starving." Prussia caught the apple when it was thrown at him, half wondering if it would be rude to ask for pancakes. Yeah, it probably would. Not that Matthew would mind, but his ax wielding brother might have something to say about it. "So, is there a shower I can use? And maybe some clothes I can borrow? Even if they aren't as awesome as mine."

"Oh, yes. You know you're welcome to use the shower," he said and tucked the basket under his arm, but before he could take more than two steps forward, a thick, tan arm had stopped him. "Alfred, what-"

America had put down his ax, and was now grinning devilishly. "No, it's fine Matt, I can help him out. Besides, your clothes wouldn't fit him good anyway."

Arthur gave Alfred a look of approval, but Matthew's was far more skeptical. He eyed Gilbert, who didn't seem so sure, either. "So it's okay if he borrows your clothes, Al?"

"Oh yeah sure, wouldn't want him stinking up the place. He can even wear my clothes on his way home, since he'll be leaving today." America walked forward, so that Matthew wasn't so close to the albino.

Gilbert sneered. "I go home when I want, or when Matt tells me to. Not you, dick face."

Knowing that no good could come from two prideful, testosterone-stimulated nations who were already past the point of aggression, Matthew wedged himself in between them. "Al, would you please finish cutting the firewood? I'll take care of Gilbert."

"Matthew-" Arthur began, but the meek blond shook his head.

"It'll be alright. I'll just be gone for a moment." And before anyone could try to argue, he insistantly nudged the ex-nation back toward the house.

Once inside, Prussia rolled his eyes. "Seriously Matt, why do you have to be related to so many people who want me killed? Francis is the only awesome one."

"They didn't always want your demise," he tried to amend warily, taking Gilbert back up the stairs. "I have it on good authority that you and Arthur are drinking buddies, at the very least."

"Just because I drink with a man doesn't mean we like each other." He said laughing, and following Matthew to a washroom. "So, uh, how are you feeling? Like, anything new with the pregnancy? We didn't really get a chance to talk about that shit last night."

Matthew distracted himself with going through Alfred's duffel bag and picking out clothes that would better fit Gilbert than his own. It made him feel... odd to discuss the ordeal with the only other person truly involved. "Uh... no, I can't say anything's really changed since yesterday... Um, want me to wash your boxers real quick? I can't imagine you'd want to wear Alfred's..."

Damn, the idea of Canada washing his boxers was somehow... sexy. Stupid libido, thinking that just because he was in this house, he was going to get laid! "No that's fine. I always carry an extra pair just in case." Well, tighty-whiteys at least. Boxers wouldn't fit in his jacket pocket.

Matthew gave him a quizzical look. "You... don't want me to wash your underwear... at all?"

Gilbert thought about it and then shook his head. "You know what, why don't I just give you all my clothes and you can wash it all? Then I won't have to wear that stupid clothes of your stupid brother. Here, give me a sec and I'll get undressed."

"Wha- oh!" Matthew turned to give him privacy, feeling suddenly and irrationally sheepish. "Sorry, um, I'll... I'll be right back. I've got to... to... pee." He scurried out of the room and retreated to the nearest bathroom.

Rolling his eyes, Gilbert took off his clothes, leaving them on the floor, and got into the shower. When he heard a knock on the door, he called out, "It's fine Matt, I'm already in the shower." The door opened, and there were footsteps. "I don't know what the problem is, you've already seen me naked."

Gathering up the Prussian's clothes, Matthew cleared his throat. "Yeah, well..." he mumbled, though Gilbert could not have possibly heard him over the spray of the shower. "I'm just more modest than you, I guess."

And then he left Gilbert alone for his shower. God, how did everything get so messed up like this? One day, they're fuck buddies, and Matthew makes him fucking awesome pancakes in the morning. The next, he's going to be a father, and Canada is pretty much giving him the cold shoulder. Which is somehow worse than the hot angry glares he gets from England and America.

After he dried off and slipped on America's clothes (just a little too big on him... he insisted to himself that it must be fat stretching the fabric and definitely not muscle), Gilbert trotted down the stairs, following his nose once it caught scent of something more than amazing drifting through the house. What met him in the kitchen was not Matt's mane of silken waves, but another altogether. "Ah- _bonjour_, Gilbert. What a pleasant surprise."

"Oh, thank god you're cooking. I was worried America or England would try." Prussia dried his hair, smiling at his friend. Well, hopefully they were still friends, and he wasn't still mad at him.

Francis chuckled, turning back to the creamy substance in the pan before him. "I assume that means you've seen the atrocities Mathieu is so fond of eating now?"

"Saw a few in the fridge this morning. I wouldn't want to be his stomach." The albino sat down at the table, watching France work his magic. "So England hates me, America wants to kill me, Matt doesn't want anything to do with me: please say you aren't still mad at me. Don't think I could take a whole house of hate. Someone has to see my awesomeness!"

Francis held a steaming spoonful of the soup up for Gilbert to try before pressing an airy kiss to his friend's cheek. "_Mon ami_, it would take more than planting a child in my boy to cause me to hate you." He pinched the cheek with a wicked grin. "You might have impregnated me instead. That, my friend, would have been simply unforgivable."

The ex-nation laughed. "Yeah, wouldn't wanna ruin your figure. Fuck that tastes good. I'm not even gonna ask what's in it. Made that mistake last time." As soon as France had said frog legs, he had spit them out, no matter how good they tasted.

Francis nodded and hummed to himself for a moment, flicking a lock of hair over his shoulder. A muffled shout told Gilbert that Alfred and at least one other nation were outside. Francis seemed candid enough to suggest that they were the only two in the house. "So I take it you haven't really spoken with Mathieu about the situation."

"Haven't had the chance. Besides last night, but that didn't turn out well. But those two bitches keep getting in the way! It's like they think I'm a demon and they can't leave their precious baby near me," Gilbert brooded. Seriously, England hardly even noticed Matthew before, and now that he was pregnant he started acting like a father. Francis gave his friend a dry look before his lips quirked into a grin.

"You've _met_ Mathieu, yes? He has a certain... a certain way about him that just calls to be protected." He nodded to himself and stirred the soup. "Seeing as you're the one to have debauched him, I understand why you might be immune to it, but to his brothers... well, we cannot help but fret for him. And you are rather devilish, I'm afraid."

Rolling his eyes, Prussia stole another spoonful of the sauce. "You make it sound like I had sex with the fucking virgin Mary. Trust me, he knew what he was doing." He may have been shy about it, but it wasn't like that was Matthew's first time. Far from it. A virgin nation was so rare that most people didn't think they existed.

"Oh?" Francis quirked a brow at that, snatching his spoon back. "And you know this to be a fact?"

"Yeah, I do. He said that he hadn't slept with anyone else in decades, which means that a few decades ago he slept with someone else. So there. Probably you, fucking pervert." But he was still grinning, obviously meaning no harm by the joke.

"Alas," France sighed, "I have not tasted Matthew's sweet fruit. Nor am I certain of anyone who has, other than you. He doesn't really boast those kinds of things." France reached into a cabinet above the stove and retrieved a few different spices. "So tell me then, Gilbert: What do you plan to do?"

At that, the albino put his head in his hands and groaned. "I don't know! He doesn't want the kid to grow up with a father across the sea, and I don't want to never be a part of the kid's life! Fuck Francis, he would rather America be the father. Just because they're so close, and share the longest _undefended border_." At the last part, he put finger quotation marks, showing his distaste for that.

The blond pulled out a cutting board and brandished a bag of carrots from the refrigerator, cutting it open and rinsing them for a few long, silent moments. Then, "And is that such a terrible thing? That peaceful border bodes well, and they are very close. Surely you're thinking of the child in this."

"Exactly! No kid should be raised more by his weird uncle than by his father. What if it comes out albino? Wouldn't have anyone to tell him how awesome he is." Calling the baby an it all the time was getting annoying, so Gilbert decided to call the baby he. Much easier.

"You and Alfred," France mumbled, rolling his eyes, choosing not to fight the gender battle with another patron of the house. "The child's self-esteem is not what concerns Mathieu; Alfred will instill no small amount of that, I assure you. That's not what makes him hesitate to take you into such an intimate part of his life."

He wasn't ready to have this argument again with someone else. "Look, what the fuck ever, it's my kid too! Don't you remember when babies were normal? How proud a nation was when they were a parent? Germania _smiled_ when he was pregnant with Holy Roma. He never smiled! How could I just let this kid be raised by Matthew? I'm not saying that he couldn't do it, but fuck Francis, he's still so young! He doesn't remember how it was."

"Yes, Gilbert," Francis said with a glance out of the corner of his eye. "But times have changed, and it would do you well to realize it. He does not, and never will truly understand how you feel about the whole thing. Where you see a matter of pride, like Germania and Rome and Ancient Greece, Mathieu sees a miracle." He sliced quickly and expertly through the carrots, grabbing a few clean tomatoes the second he was done. "He is more human than you and I, _Prusse_. What is growing in him isn't his progeny or his legacy. It is his child. His flesh and blood. Do you see?"

Gilbert sighed at that, practically deflating. "But why? I don't get it. We're not human, so why does he have to act so much like them?" Just like with the sex. He saw it as humans saw it, something intimate. Sex used to be a tool, for conquering, for forming alliances. That had changed. Now for Prussia, since he was no longer a country, sex was little more than pleasure.

"Ah, _c'est la vie_," France chuckled. "That's youth for you. When we were young, our people were far less civilized. We did not grow with the luxuries that they have had. We spoiled them, you know, simply by being there. We grew into ourselves and fought with each other to become what we were, and because of that, we fell. But not the young ones. They grew with that feeling of almost-family, and it has made them soft. But in that, it has also made them so strong. They _are_ the people. It comes so naturally to them." He sighed as though he was put-upon. "I do not know about you, Gilbert, but I can barely keep up with the pace of the modern world."

The Prussian just opened his mouth to say he never really got all that emotional shit when three blonds walked in and the room got too crowded. As soon as they saw he was there, of course, America grabbed onto Matthew's arm; as to why, he wasn't sure. Did he expect Canada to go running into his arms or something? Not likely.

Canada seemed a little startled by it as well and patted his brother's hand until he lifted it off. "Hi, Francis. I didn't know you were coming today."

"_Oui_, I knew Gilbert was here and wanted to see how everything was going. Obviously not very well, but I am cooking lunch to make things seem better." When his eyes landed on the Brit, Francis frowned. "Arthur, you know the rules! Out of the kitchen while I am cooking! We do not want another incident like in the summer of '97!"

Arthur huffed, his massive eyebrows scrunched together fiercely. "Shut your fucking beard, wino," he growled, cheeks burning. Matthew grimaced in sympathy.

"Arthur's mere presence won't ruin a meal, Francis," he said.

France whirled around, spatula held like a sword. "Back when we used oil lamps, he knocked one onto the cooking fire, burnt the whole camp down! Once he picked up a hot pot of soup with no oven mitts, burnt his hands and dropped the soup all over the ground! Christmas dinner, he came in the kitchen and... ah, distracted me... with his lips... the turkey was ruined! On multiple occasions, he has simply walked into the room and a pot will suddenly overturn or burst on fire! He claims it's the fairies!" Francis took a deep breath, calming himself and putting down the cooking utensil. "So yes, his mere presence will ruin the meal."

"Stuff it, you insensitive piece of shit," Arthur hissed threateningly and advanced toward the defensive Frenchman. "One more word out of you, and I'll rip out that beard you're so proud of."

The Frenchman was debating which he cared for more, his bear or the food, when Alfred saved the day. "Artie, I think he has a point. Things just seem to happen around you in a kitchen. Come on, we could go play a video game! Matt has like the best multiplayer ones!" It was then he realized that would mean leaving Canada with Gilbert and Francis. Maybe it would be fine, since France would still stop anything bad happening between them.

Matthew gave his brother a thankful smile as he pulled the spitting mad Brit out of the kitchen. When they were out of earshot he turned. "That smells amazing, Francis," he groaned, inching closer.

Gilbert, meanwhile, had grabbed the paper from the table and was reading it. Or at least pretending to. After all, the focus wasn't on him right now, and for once, he was glad about that. He wanted to talk to Matt alone, or not at all. As soon as they started having a conversation about the baby, he was sure everyone in the house would jump on Canada's side and he wouldn't get a word in.

Neither taking much note of his silence, the two French-speaking nations talked about food and how delicious France's smelled. "You know what would go well with this?" Matthew said suddenly, his eyes alight. "Coffee beans. Just crush them in. Columbian."

The chef paused, blinking at him. "...How about I leave some aside for you, so you can add your... coffee beans." After all, they tried to accommodate Matthew's strange tastes as much as possible. "But not too many, the caffeine isn't good for the baby."

Matthew blushed and glanced down, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah, that was weird, wasn't it? Sorry, the cravings just kick in..."

"No, they have been happening for a while. _C'est la vie_. If you still want it though, I think Alfred has some in the cupboard with the 'No Mattie' sign." He looked to his white-haired friend, surprised to find him behind a large paper. Gilbert was never interested in current events. "What do you think, _Prusse_, would this be better with coffee beans?"

Gilbert tried to act like he hadn't been listening in and put the paper down. "What? No, that would be gross. Totally not awesome."

Matthew's blush burned darker and he smiled sheepishly at France. "He's right. It does sound kind of weird, eh? Never mind. I'm sure it's delicious just the way it is. May I try some?"

The albino watched France give Matthew some of the sauce again, and looked out the window for a distraction. "Besides, isn't coffee like bad for you or something? That seems like it would be bad."

"Yeah, a little, but... But they won't let me eat anything anymore!" he replied, glaring at France. "Alfred even threw out his hotdogs. America. Threw out hotdogs."

Francis tapped the spatula against the rim of the pot. "You don't even know what they put in those terrible things! Not good for a developing baby." He shook his head, even though he was very glad those things were out of the house.

Matthew's lip curled into a faint pout. "But there are so many pregnant women who have perfectly healthy babies even though they eat ice cream and stuff!"

"We let you eat ice cream. Just not as much as you want. If you had it your way, you would eat it every night with five pickles! That much sugar is not good for a pregnant nation, my dear." Finally Francis was happy with the food, so he started getting out plates and silverware. "Alright, there is little chance of Arthur messing anything up now, if one of you would be so kind as to call the two in."

Matthew immediately disappeared into the living room and the moment he was gone, France thonked Gilbert on the head with a clean wooden spoon. "Be kinder to the boy. He needs love and understanding, not ridicule."

"Hey! I wasn't ridiculing him! What's wrong with saying that coffee beans in that would be gross! Geez France, you're like a ninja with that thing!" And then Gilbert fully caught up to what Francis had said. "And I don't think he would expect love from me anyway."

Francis gave him a sympathetic eye. "Oh, you would be surprised, I think." He would have continued, but he sealed his lips when Alfred poked his head around the corner with a wicked smirk. "Okay, so you aren't gonna believe this, but... oh, wait, yes you are. England said one of his fairies followed you here, France."

The Parisian laughed. "Of course he said that. I just wish he would stop talking to them when we are in public." Once the plates were decorated to his content, Francis put them out on the table. It would be a little crowded with five people sitting at it, but they would have to make do.

Throughout the entirety of dinner, England spent most of it bickering with France, and when he wasn't goading them on America was making jabs at Prussia, while Canada defended him as best he could. It was awkward to make conversation with the albino, but Matthew did his very best; he was even able to strike up a decent discussion about the frequency of migration in Canadian birds, but every time he eased himself into a less tense posture, one of the other three interjected into the conversation, breaking his stride.

America, through dinner, kept subtly saying that Gilbert should just leave. Well, a few times he said it rather bluntly. The part that really got to the Prussian was that Matt seemed to agree, by the way he looked whenever it was brought up. By the end of dinner, Prussia was angrily pushing around the left over peas on his plate. It just wasn't fair! Obviously he cared about the kid too. And they acted like he would only visit like once a year. But it seemed as if England was almost always here, and he was across the same ocean!

On the subject of England, though, it was rather interesting. While he was normally Alfred's partner in making snide comments in Gilbert's direction, he refrained for the most part, keeping his fighting words exclusively with Alfred and Francis. Matthew didn't seem to notice, simply finishing his meal and scrambling for more before his bottomless pit of a brother could take it all for himself.

"I mean really, kids don't need a dad. As long as the have a mom and a heroic uncle, they grow up fine!" Alfred explained through a full mouth, waving his fork around. "So go home. We don't want you."

"You know..." France interceded before another word could be spoken. Matthew was beginning to look rather upset, England was being oddly quiet and Prussia looked about ready to flip the table over on the willful American. "I made dessert, too. Would you like to come taste it, Alfred?"

He grinned and nodded quickly. "Is it cake? I love your cake! Please tell me it's cake." He got up from his chair, not even realizing he was being distracted on purpose.

Matthew breathed a sigh of relief when they disappeared into the kitchen. "Sorry about him," he said, finding it a little difficult to meet Gilbert's eyes. "He's just tired. He gets mean when he's tired."

"You look a bit sleepy too, Matthew," Arthur said from across the table, suddenly grabbing the bottle of wine in front of him and pouring it into his empty water glass. "Why don't you have your dessert and go to bed?"

"Arthur, I'm not a child," he said quietly, though he did rub his eyes shortly thereafter.

Gilbert leaned back in his chair, calmer when America wasn't in the room. "I think you should go to bed too. Not that anyone fucking cares what I think." He thought he should help raise the kid. No one agreed. He thought everyone should fuck off and mind their own business. The three nosy nations were still here, so obviously no one agreed to that either.

Matthew did sigh at that and stood. "I'm not really up for dessert. I'll see you in the morning." He glanced at Gilbert before picking up his plate. "Do you need anything before I go to bed?"

He just grunted and shook his head. "You know what, I don't want dessert either. Tell Francis to save me some." It didn't go unnoticed by England that Gilbert grabbed the bottle of wine and headed to the sun room, not upstairs to his room.

Matthew just rubbed his eyes and took his dishes to the sink before retreating to his own room.

An hour and twelve arguments later, a pair of legs stumbled past the last bedroom in the hall to the short staircase that led to the open, comfortable room. England let the door shut quietly behind him as he moseyed over to the occupied loveseat, plopping himself down in a comfortable chair beside it. The bottle in his hand was swung precariously with every movement. "Y'know what yer problem is?"

Gilbert looked up slowly, focusing on the bottle of rum in England's hand. "Yeah. The fact that I'm stuck drinking this shit when you have that. Gimme." He swiped at the bottle half heatedly, too melancholy to actually try.

With his limited motor skills England kicked at Prussia to keep him away. It didn't quite make contact. "That's your problem, kraut. What I asked was... ah." He snorted and shook his head, taking a swig of the liquor. "Ah. Shouldn't even have this... dunno why there was wine, either. Not s'posed to have it in th' house, you know. Not good for the boy. Not good at all."

Red eyes glared at not getting any of the hard liquor, but he took another swig of the wine anyways. "Not like he would drink it. The kid is smart, not like us old men, eh?" There was a small poof of dust as Arthur stood restlessly from his seat and flopped down in another couch. "So I know why I'm drinking. What's your problem?"

Arthur shook his head and rested his chin in his palm, eying the albino without much focus. "Fuckin' needed a drink. Never stops with one, though. 'N' 'm not old." He glanced down at the bottle in quiet contemplation, a furrow in his brow. "Don't understand why she said you've gotta stick around."

That confused the albino. Which was a fairly easy thing to do in his current state. "What 'she'? If you talking 'bout France, he's not a girl." Another swig of wine. Gilbert wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and leaned back on the couch. It was nice to drink with someone else. Even someone who wanted him gone.

Arthur cackled. "No, but that's ace. Talkin' about the fae tha' came wiv 'im. Said... well. It was vurry cryptic, but more or less, she said that it had to be you." His bony shoulders lifted in what was a very off-balance shrug. "An' at first I thought she meant tha' it was you that gave the boy a babe, but she said tha's not what she meant." England shook his head. "Don't wanna b'lieve it. Mattie deserves more."

Gilbert filed that information away for when he was more sober. "Well that fairy has good taste. An' I don't know what you mean: I'd be a fucking good father. Awesome father. Fuck, give me some rum, will ya?" He held out his hand, not satisfied with the wine. It would be better if they had beer, but he would take what he could get.

The Briton cradled the bottle to his chest and scowled at Gilbert, mindless of the liquor that splashed onto his shirt with every move. "'S not good for the baby, fuckin' twat... who knows what kinda stuff gets passed through yer seed... ah, but yer not fuckin' him anymore, are ye?" He cackled and handed over the bottle.

"Shut up asshole. S'not my fault. Seriously, wuz the problem? It's just sex." But he still took the bottle gratefully. "And I know how happy you are that 'm not fucking your little boy anymore, so shut the fuck up."

Arthur didn't waste any time in turning his expression sour. "Just 'cause you aren't fucking 'im anymore doesn't mean you get t' just leave. 'S not okay. Gotta take care of 'im, e'en if he leaves you... Wouldn't be the first time that sort of thing happened, now, would it?" He sniffed, his eyes misty.

Ah, here it came. Practically every time England got drunk, he would start talking about the war of independence. "Just because one of your colonies left you don't mean that it always happens. I mean how many colonies did you have? One of them was bound to rebel." Gilbert slumped sideways on the couch, finally just laying down, the bottle of liquor -he wasn't sure which one anymore- sitting on his chest.

"_All_ of them rebelled!" he sobbed, his arms flailing expressively. "But that fuckin' sod America just... after all I did fer 'im, weaseled his way into my heart and just tore it out! Bloody fuckin' yank!" He snatched the bottle back and drank deeply. "Mnh... yer gonna love that little babe, you are, an' i's jes gonna walk outta yer life if ye keep this attitude up, 'nd ye'll regret every time you e'en jes took yer eyes offa it. The fae said so."

Prussia groaned, his arm falling over his face. "No, I'm too awesome for that to happen. You fairy is fucked in the head."

"Wha- ye're the fucked one," he grumbled, his head falling over to hit the arm of the sofa. "'Specially if y' think ye'll get outta this without fallin' head o'er heals for the boy and yer kid."

Gilbert grunted, rolling onto his stomach so he could see England. "Like you did for America."

"Ezzactly."

About fifteen minutes of the evening passed in song after that- from England, lullabies, and from Prussia something a little more hardcore... probably Rammstein. But shortly thereafter found Gilbert half-carrying the Brit to bed. He didn't remember quite where Arthur's room was, or if he had his own in the house, so he simply dumped him in bed next to a clueless snoring American and stumbled downstairs for one last snack before bed.

Apparently he wasn't the only one who'd had that idea.

Though Gilbert's footsteps were none too quiet, Matthew still looked like a deer caught in headlights when he entered the kitchen. A little lamp was on by the refrigerator and illuminated little parts of the kitchen in white light, casting silver shadows all about. He spoke around a pickle in his mouth. "Uh... g'mornin'."

The Prussian raised an eyebrow as he watched Matthew take the pickle out of his mouth, and put it back in the tub of ice cream. "Thought ya weren't allowed ice cream." He went forward to look in the fridge for something he could eat and found a big block of cheese. "Do you want a spoon?" Gilbert asked when he realized Canada was definitely eating ice cream with the pickle.

He quickly chewed and swallowed the bite, wiping his hands on his pants. "No thanks- I might eat it." He wriggled his fingers into the pickle jar and dipped the green slice into the carton of smooth, creamy chocolate. "And, uh... yeah. Don't tell mommy and daddy I got into Alfred's stash, huh? He thinks I don't know, but I'm not him, and I _do_ look behind the broccoli."

"And the 'No Mattie' sign kind of gives it away. Not sure what's so bad about ice cream anyway. Don't pregnant chicks always eat ice cream?" He grabbed a knife to cut the cheese with, taking a large bite.

Canada leaned against the counter and gave Gilbert a dry look. "Pregnant girls don't have my family." He peeled the little sticky note off and tossed it in the garbage can before holding it out toward Prussia. "Want some?"

He looked at the ice cream, with pickle juice all over it. "I'm fine. Really." God, this was not good when he was drunk. No matter how much he tried to act sober, his hands were still not going exactly where he wanted them, and he could tell that he was talking with a bit of a lisp.

"Yeah, you smell fine," Matthew said with a little grin, swirling his finger around in the soupy mix before licking it clean. "Like fine liquor, if we're gonna be precise about it. I didn't think there was any alcohol in the house besides the stuff Francis brought."

Dammit, he had been found out. "Arthur had some hidden. That guy still can't hold his liquor." Prussia sat down at the table, afraid that he might trip or something if he stayed standing. "What are you doing up anyway? Thought you were tired. Or just tired of me?"

Matthew stuffed the ice cream back in the freezer. "I'm dead tired. I just can't sleep." He shut the door and put the pickle jar back in the refrigerator. "You know, I've read six books on pregnancy cover to cover, and sometimes I feel like the only thing I've really learned is how often you go sleepless just wondering how much those books could never teach you."

"What do you need to be taught? God, you kids nowadays. You don't need a fucking book to tell you about pregnancy. It's a natural thing, your body is meant to deal with it." Gilbert rolled his eyes, leaning against the back of the chair.

Canada's smile was wry. "A man getting pregnant is natural? Gee, I suppose I should have just assumed as much. And it's so natural that I can just go into this blind, right? Years of medical study and analysis is surely pointless if you say so. So I can just go ahead and drink, since the books don't matter. It won't pickle the baby's brain or anything." He turned the faucet in the sink on to wash his hands. "I can go ahead and do some heavy lifting throughout the pregnancy too, right?"

"Obviously not! But I've looked at a few of those books. What do they tell you? How much the baby is growing? How to arrange your pillows so you're comfortable, to have more iron in your diet? You don't need to know that shit." Gilbert put his feet on another chair, but started tipping over so he put them on the ground again before he completely fell.

"... You're joking, right?" Matthew's gaze was incredulous. "Do you know how uncomfortable it is, even before you start to show? Putting on the extra weight puts strain on the back and ankles. You swell and grow and sometimes you can't hold anything down when the thing you want most is to eat, and sometimes you can't sleep even when you're exhausted and you get all these hormones that make you feel all whacked out all the time. That's only the beginning. Of course people are going to invest in books that give you little tips to make you as comfortable as possible." In a smaller voice he added, "... And I love knowing how the baby grows each week."

Prussia threw up his hands in the air. "Well, fine! What do I know! It's not like I've been alive way before North America was even discovered! I must not know anything, because I'm not a country anymore." So what if he wasn't making sense, he was drunk you weren't supposed to make sense when you were drunk.

Matthew, it seemed, had come to the same conclusion. He sighed. "Right. Not a country anymore. Come on, Gil, let's get you to bed before you crack your skull tipping over in that chair."

"I'm fine! I'm fucking perfect! Just because I'm not a country doesn't mean that I'm too drunk to get myself to bed!" Gilbert pushed himself away from the table, not even sure what he was yelling about anymore.

Matthew was there to catch him when he stumbled, though, and winced sympathetically when Gilbert stubbed his toe on the doorway. "You sure you're gonna be okay? I can... accompany you up the stairs. No one has to know."

"Accompany me? Like I'm some fuckn' inv-invila- invalid?" He pushed away the supporting hand, barely stumbling. If he had helped England up the stairs, surely he could make it by himself.

So Canada watched, unallowed to help as Gilbert made a fool out of himself. The alcohol must have finally sunk into his bloodstream during their odd conversation. He did not lay another hand on Gilbert but instead made sure he got to his own bed in one piece. "Since you're not an invalid, I take it you'll be able to handle the hangover by yourself? And with minimal complaint?"

"Never get hangovers. I'm too awesome for that." Prussia was hanging off the hand rails on the stairs, making his way up them. "Why are you still here?"

Matthew followed him slowly. "Because despite what you say, I'm worried that you'll BECOME an invalid with one wrong step. The real question is, why are you still complaining?"

They finally got to the door of his room. "I'm complaining because...! Because you would rather have that idiot raising this kid than me," Gilbert finished lamely.

Violet eyes went wide as Matthew looked up at the Prussian from a few steps behind. "I w-what?" he stuttered.

"Well, it's true! You think I would be a horrible father, and for your information I would be a fucking _awesome_ father!" Finally he got his door open and stumbled inside. "Now I'm going to bed!"

Biting his lip Canada began to follow him, hesitating after a moment. "Gilbert," he murmured from the door, "you're wrong."

Gilbert sat down heavily on the bed. "How am I wrong? You said that you don't want me around him!"

"Don't want you ar- Gilbert, it's not..." He looked over his shoulder down the dark, silent hallway and moved into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. "It isn't that I don't want you around the baby. I want him or her to know their father. I..." Matthew was glad for the darkness, as it hid his blush well. _I wish it would be you_. "It isn't that I don't want you to be around the baby. It's that I want the man they will grow up knowing as their father to be someone who loves them. And... and if they can't receive that love biologically, their uncle has proved over and over that he will happily take on the responsibility."

But the albino had pretty much stopped listening. He was laying back on the bed, hoping that those sounds he was hearing from a few rooms over weren't from England and America. "Yeah, by the sound of it, the 'loving uncle' has a thing for cowboys."

Matthew's blush deepened when it registered that the sound of one of his ancient beds were squeaking rhythmically. "T-that's... dammit, Alfred. Never mind. Goodnight, Gilbert."

It wasn't until he had retreated and shut the door to the guest bedroom that Gilbert sighed and rolled over onto his stomach, picking at the corner of a pillow.

"Goodnight, Matt."


	6. Chapter 6

I feel that a disclaimer is in order here: Bya _likes_ country music. Any bashing is Tyger's fault.

* * *

><p>It was long dawn and only two members of the house were awake. Matthew muttered something in French to the nation beside him and waited for Francis to go digging around in the pantry before he quickly sprinkled paprika into the crepe batter, looking away as soon as Francis was back.<p>

Francis turned around, just missing Matthew putting it back. "_Je ne sais pas_... I think Gilbert just has troubles expressing himself."

Shrugging, Matthew snuggled deeper into the oversized sweatshirt engulfing his body. "But," he replied in French, "it's not his trouble expressing himself that's the problem. It's that he obviously cannot fathom any kind of affection for his own offspring. Come on, Francis; don't tell me you can imagine a life without love."

"Of course not; I am the master d'amour." He chuckled as he stirred the batter. "But he is different. You must understand: Gilbert was practically raised by knights, who are not the most affectionate of people. He has never truly felt loved, even by Germania, so you cannot expect him to know what it is like. But I am sure he would love. In his own way."

"Not from across the ocean. No way." Matthew shook his head. "This isn't a nation founded, Francis. It's not going to form alliances or forge treaties. It isn't just going to be discovered and adopted or able to fend by itself like us. All children deserve love and devotion; not a father who visits every once in a while when he has nothing better to do."

The Frenchman just shrugged, unable to defend his friend, but unable to say anything against him as well. It was nice to be able to speak in his native language without England or America complaining. Of course, when they woke up, it would stop.

Matthew just sighed and hoped that Francis' sensitive nose wouldn't catch the scent of paprika as he poured the delicate batter onto the griddle. He breathed out silently in relief when the French nation simply continued to chatter on about baby clothes and children fashion and the most refined brands in Paris, contenting himself with gathering toppings for the breakfast: Whipped cream, strawberries, maple syrup, chocolata chips, bananas, sour cream, applesauce, black olives, hummus, candy corn. (A few he'd improvised on a whim, because a sour cream and applesauce crepe seemed like a good idea at the time.)

Behind them, America stretched and grinned at the smell. "Mm, I love it when you two cook together." Going up behind his brother, Alfred put his head on his shoulder, reaching around to stick his finger in the batter. "Um... actually it tastes a little weird... Maybe just 'cause it isn't cooked yet."

Matthew laughed nervously. "Y-yeah, that must be it! And these aren't pancakes, so of course it'll taste a little different, haha..."

Completely trusting, the American just hugged his brother. He always seemed to be very clingy first thing in the morning. "Well then I'm sure they'll be great. Man, I wonder why I'm so tired! I went to sleep so early!" He stretched again, and went to sit at the table.

"Probably because you woke up in the middle of the night and stayed up... longer than necessary." Matthew rubbed at his red cheeks. "You kept me awake too, you jerk."

"Oh, ah, you heard that, huh? Sorry..." Alfred scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Not that he regretted it at all though. Hell, he would take a drunk Arthur stumbling into his room any night. Still, he had the decency to blush.

"Heard it? Alfred, I thought you were doing it in my bedroom you were so loud." He had half a mind to extract revenge.

America put his head down on the table. "Not my fault! Arthur was the loud one! Oh shut up Francis, you know how vocal he can be. Besides, it just proves how amazing I am in bed." The embarrassed nation looked up a little sheepishly.

Matthew chucked a chocolate chip at him and glared at Francis. "Don't encourage him. I need as much sleep as I can get, and you're not helping."

"You could have a nap if you are tired," the French nation said, grabbing the chocolate chip and eating it. "Well, I think these are mostly ready. Maybe we could get the other two, Mathieu? I would ask America, but I fear he wouldn't return from waking up Arthur for a while."

Matthew nodded, grumbling all the way that he would _love _to take a nap if his home hadn't been infiltrated with the most disagreeable, raucous nations on the planet. It was no walk in the park rousing the two old drunks, but he did his best and traipsed back down after delivering the wake up calls. "I woke them up," he said, sitting next to his brother at the table. "Whether or not they make it down to breakfast is to be seen."

It took ten minutes for Gilbert to get downstairs. As he had claimed the night before, he had almost no hangover besides the slightest sensitivity to light. That being said, he wasn't planning to have any dairy that morning. He sat down at the table, avoiding Matthew's eyes. He thought it would be best if they both just forgot about their conversation last night.

Matthew didn't seem keen on catching his eye either and quietly ate his crepe as Francis and Alfred chatted on and on about mundane something-or-others.

"Sleep well?" he asked Prussia after a few moments, glancing over at him briefly.

"Yeah," He replied quietly. "I don't think we'll be seeing England for a bit. I heard some groaning as I went past. He always gets the worst hangovers." He would probably get a hangover if he only had one drink. Not that England ever only had one drink.

Matthew chuckled. "Yeah, I went into his room this morning. I thought he'd died, he looked so bad." He grinned at Gilbert. "This whole alcohol abstinence thing is putting me on a high horse; I'm judging all of you drunkards."

"Well, that is a good thing, we wouldn't want you feeling like you had to drink to fit in." Francis patted him on the shoulder and then scowled at Gilbert. "And there wasn't supposed to be more alcohol in the house. That bottle of wine wouldn't have gotten both of you drunk."

Gilbert easily gave up his accomplice. "England had a bottle of rum. Go shit on him, not me."

"Way to take responsibility, bro," America smirked, drawing an arm around his brother and pulling him closer.

"Alfred," Matthew mumbled, leaning in conspiratorally toward America. "I want you to be nice. If you don't, I'll lock you in the basement all night and put Amityville Horror on a constant loop on the television."

Everyone laughed at just how white the American's face got. Gilbert in particular was very happy at the other's fear. Mostly because, even with Matthew saying last night how he wouldn't prefer Alfred as the father, the nation was all over him.

The thought didn't seem to serve him well, though, seeing as the fright only made Alfred pull him ever closer.

"Oi," a grumpy voice came just before a smack was delivered over America's head. "Let your brother go; you'll strangle the baby."

"Artie!" Alfred cried, releasing Matthew only to grab England and drag him into his lap. "Artie, Mattie threatened me!"

"Shut up," he hissed, covering his ears. "Bloody great fuck, I'm never drinking again..."

"Yeah, you _were _a bloody great fuck." Alfred practically hummed. "And you always say that when you have a hangover. Doesn't change a thing." He ignored England groaning and covering his ears easily, taking a few bites of the crepe. "You know, this still tastes a bit off. Unless that's what it's supposed to taste like. If that's the case, then it tastes amazing."

"Thank you," Francis said just as Matthew piped in with a "You're welcome." Canada skillfully avoided any and all eyes that landed on him at that, seemingly transfixed with his breakfast. "So, uh... any plans for today, guys?"

There were non-committal shrugs all around. Then France took a bite of his own food, and a pensive look appeared on his face. "You know, Alfred, I think you're right. There definitely is something... tastes like..." Then his gaze landed on Matthew, who was fidgeting around and eating his crepes. "... Paprika."

Matthew choked on the olive trying to slide down his throat. Bull's eye! "That... That's not an odd thing to put in your crepes, Francis," he said with a forced smile. "I, for one, find these delicious."

"Of course you do; look at you, eating a crepe with whipped cream, an olive and yogurt!" But the Parisian tried to calm himself from the culinary atrocities that had happened. "But it is completely normal to have these cravings. I forgive you, my dear."

Blushing, Matthew's sheepish grin mirrored the one his brother had bestowed earlier. "But it's not... terrible, eh? Can't be too bad if you're the one forgiving me for this."

Alfred, wanting to make his brother feel better, looked at him from behind England's head. "It's fine, Mattie- way better than anything me or Arthur could make."

"Thanks, Al..." He honestly did not know whether to take that as a compliment or just a statement teetering on the edge of an insult. "I won't do it again. I just... feel kinda bad that you're always going to great lengths for me." He didn't meet their eyes, scarlet all the way down to the tips of his ears. Everyone else at the table reassured him that they didn't mind. Well, everyone except Gilbert.

Arthur pinched Alfred when he felt a hand make its way to his rear and glanced up at Francis. "Your grating voice reminds me; when are you flying back to your piece of shit country?"

"I could ask the same thing of you. You have been here far longer than you normally like being away from your home." France rolled his eyes, taking another bite of the crepes and trying not to cringe.

England glared. "Piss off or I'll kill you. I happen to be enjoying myself here with Matthew. And I get anxious being away for too long. Is that a crime?"

America lightly wacked Arthur on the head, making him groan in pain. "Be nice. Both of you." But that didn't seem to apply to him being nice to Gilbert. It wasn't as bad as last night, but everyone could still see the nasty looks he was sending his way.

"I've been wondering about that too," Matthew piped up, attempting to discretely create his fourth crepe. "You guys are missing a lot of work... especially you, Alfred."

They all looked around, trying to say something so Canada wouldn't think he was being a pain. Alfred piped up first. "Well, my boss really likes paperwork. Hardly lets me do any even when I'm there!"

Gilbert rolled two ruby eyes to the ceiling, understanding their motives. "For fuck's sake, he's pregnant, not suicidal! Do you really have to treat him like a glass doll? Matt, yeah, they have work to do, but they're here anyway. I however don't have any to do, so I think _they_ should all go home."

He was answered by a sea of curses and violent refusals, and even Francis was beginning to look a little more than exasperated. And then they were silenced by a hand slapping hard against the table, the sound shaking them from their fit and very nearly upending the drinks from their respective cups. Matthew frowned around his bite of food and swallowed. "Gilbert's right. You can't just leave and expect it to all be okay just because I'm pregnant. I'm not fine with this at all."

"Matthew, dear, you cannot do this alone! What if something happens?" England reasoned, still cringing at all the loud noises.

"I'll be fine, Arthur," he insisted, pushing his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose. "I really do appreciate all you've done for me, but I'm not a child, and," he glanced at Gilbert, "I'm _not_ made of glass. You guys need to go home by the end of the week. You have work to do, and if I get stressed about it, that's not good for the baby."

So the three nations grudgingly agreed, but with thoughts of many visits. Gilbert stayed quiet through it, thinking of how unfair it was. Sure, send the others home, but he didn't have any work to do! Germany would probably feed Gilbird for as long as he was away. But of course, it wasn't like Matthew wanted him here in the first place.

Smiling, Matthew finished his breakfast and started to clear the table. "So," he said cheerfully, "what are we going to do today?"

America slammed his hand on the table, an idea popping into his head. "Hey, don't you have that huge mall? With like the flamingos and the water park and a theme park and a submarine?" For pretending to not know much about it, he certainly seemed well informed.

"West Edmonton you mean?" Matthew said thoughtfully. "Hey, yeah, that could work. It's a bit of a drive to Alberta, though... we'll have to stay the night."

They all paused at the idea of sharing hotel rooms. Well, it wouldn't be too bad: England and America could share a room -as long as everyone else's rooms were far away- and Gilbert and Francis could share, and Matthew could have his own.

"You'll like it, Arthur; there's a pirate ship and everything," he continued cheerfully as they all glared at each other with beady eyes, figuring out who would room with whom. "And with all the restaurants, I'm sure you'll find somewhere suitable, Francis. And of course Alfred and Gilbert will enjoy... well, everything else."

America glanced at the albino. "Well, I'll enjoy things and he'll enjoy things, but we won't enjoy them together. I'll go help Art pack." He sat up with the Brit grumbling about his headache.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "You two are practically the same person, dummy," he groused, taking Gilbert's plate after gathering the other three. "We're gonna want to get on the road before lunchtime traffic hits. Would you mind packing for me, Francis? I'm going to make lunch so we don't have to stop on the way."

"_Mais oui, mon petit." _They all got up to start packing, Gilbert not having much. He figured he could just buy some new clothes when they got there. It was a good thing Matthew washed his clothes yesterday, or else he would still be wearing America's stuff.

Canada returned to the dining room with a wash cloth to wipe off the table and noticed Gilbert just sitting there idly. He swept the damp cloth across the table to clean Alfred's mess. "Would you like to help me make lunch?" he asked quietly.

The Prussian raised an eyebrow but stepped forward. "Uh, haven't cooked since like the eighteen hundreds, just to let you know. West loves to cook. Well, that, or he hates anyone else using him kitchen."

Matthew smiled. "I was just planning on making sandwiches. Nothing too extravagant. Ah, could you put these in the sink while I finish up here?" He handed Gilbert the mugs and resumed wiping the table off.

"Sure." Prussia took the glasses, dropping them in the sink, and started to fill it with water. He may have not cooked in two hundred years, but West made him do the dishes at least once a week, under his watchful eye.

Matt returned to the kitchen shortly thereafter and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him. "Gil... you didn't have to... thank you."

He turned around, wet dishcloth in hand. "Uh, yeah, well you wanted help. So what kind of sandwiches are you gonna make?" Dammit, he had been waiting so long for some time alone with Matt to talk (last night didn't count), and now that they had it, he didn't know what to say.

Matthew went to the fridge and opened it with a shrug. "I'm not sure... something different for everyone. What would you like?" He rattled off a few ingredients, glancing over toward the albino. He allowed himself to be distracted for just a moment by the lean muscles all along Prussia's arms and the curve of his body as he scrubbed the peanut-shaped mug. In doing so he shamefully missed everything Gilbert had said. "Ah, s-sorry, what was that?"

"I said peanut butter and jam would be awesome," he repeated easily. Then Gilbert smirked, looking over his shoulder. "And I don't think that leftover potato salad is a normal choice for sandwiches."

"Yeah, well, I was thinking of putting oatmeal cookies in there, too, so you haven't seen anything yet," he chuckled, pulling out the pickles, meats and condiments. "What-" All of the sudden he realized just how close Gilbert had gotten. His face turned beet red. "Uh... w-what kind of jam..."

Prussia looked in the fridge, reached across Matthew and pulled out a jar. "This one will be fine. I'm done with the dishes- where do they go?" He had spent so many mornings in this kitchen, and he still had no idea where anything went. Mostly because Canada would never asked him to help, and Gilbert never offered.

Matthew couldn't meet his eyes as he pointed out the different cabinets that the dishes were kept and hasted to the sink, reaching in to grab the clean silverware. "B-but I can take care of the rest, it's fine- nng!" He gasped, immediately releasing the pearing knife and clutching his wrist. _"Merde!"_

"Shit! What the hell did you do that for?" Gilbert yelled as soon as he saw the blood. He immediately dropped whatever he was holding, and went to grab Matthew's hand. "Here, let me see it."

"Shh!" Matthew hushed, glancing at the kitchen door. "Don't be so loud; they'll all come down and... and stuff me in bed for the next year or something like that! It's not that bad..." He winced when Gilbert's finger brushed near it.

The ex-nation just rolled his eyes. "You have a point there. It's not like you're some kid who can't take care of himself. Do you have a first aid kit somewhere? It's too long to cover with a band-aid, but it isn't very deep." Gilbert grabbed a clean paper towel to wipe up the blood with so it wouldn't get all over the floor and look like someone was murdered.

Matthew squeezed the paper towel and nodded, shuffling down to the bathroom. "Would you mind putting the dishes away?" he asked, pulling the towel away to observe the cut.

"You're joking, right? You cut your hand; how do you expect to wrap it with only your left? And I'm fucking awesome at bandaging wounds, been in enough battles to do it in the dead of night." They got to the bathroom and he opened the cupboard to find the red bag.

"Shush!" Matthew repeated insistantly, closing the door behind them. "Fine, but just... please keep your voice down. I don't want to have to go to the hospital for a little cut."

So Gilbert obediently kept his voice down, taking out the bandages and something to clean the cut with. "So what are you gonna tell them when they see these? That it's a new style? Somehow I don't think it'll work."

Matthew thought on that for a moment, leaning against the sink. He grinned. "I'll just... bundle up really well. They'll approve." Glancing up, Matthew met Gilbert's eyes. "Just play along, yeah?"

"Bundle up? It's summer. Don't you think it'll be a little suspicious if you come out wearing gloves? Maybe just try to keep that hand in a pocket when they're around, I'll make sure you don't have to drive, and you can take the bandage off when we get there. By then it'll only look like a scratch."

"Mm, that is a good idea," Matthew agreed, watching Gilbert's pale fingers tightly wrap his cut. He made a little noise when the tender skin squeezed together, but bit his lip to keep from making himself heard.

Once it was tied, Gilbert looked at it, satisfied. "Alright, that should be good. Let's go make those sandwiches before people start thinking we're doing something inappropriate in the bathroom." He left first, as he was closest to the door, and went back to the kitchen.

Matthew followed, pulling the sleeves of his sweater down to his palms, just in case, and followed with a tiny smile alight on his lips.

Once they were all piled into Alfred's white pickup (a tight squeeze, to be sure, as Matthew was situated between Gilbert and Alfred in the backseat to ward off any flying fists), they began their trip down the mountain and onto the highway leading toward Alberta.

Not in the car for ten minutes, Alfred insisted that they sing songs. He started with 99 Bottles, but Arthur turned around from the passenger seat and threatened bodily harm if he got to 97. Francis put in a CD with French songs, and since he was driving, asked England to go to the third song. Then he started singing along, the lyrics making Canada blush, since he was the only other one who could understand them.

"F-Francis!" He leaned forward, hissing in quiet French as though any of the others could understand. "That's not okay! Turn it off! What if Alfred's Louisiana French kicks in? We'll... I'll be tortured for the rest of the trip!"

If it were anyone else, France would have continued on with the song, but since it was his little Matthieu, he changed the song. "You are no fun anymore. I remember when you were so small, asking me what _couilles _meant. It was so _adorable!_"

Matthew flushed scarlet and buried his face in his hands. "That's because you said it so frequently! If I'd known you would tease me about it hundreds of years later, I would've kept my mouth shut."

An hour later, as they had agreed, they changed drivers. No one wanted England to drive, since he still had a pretty bad hangover, so Alfred got behind the wheel. Therefore he had complete control of the radio and had them all listening to country music. Gilbert stuffed his ears with some Kleenex after ten minutes.

Matthew watched out Francis' window as miles and miles of highway passed, trees and little towns flashing by. It might have been hours, it might have been minutes, but after a while just as he was beginning to feel drowsy, a sudden weight fell onto his shoulder. He started and looked quickly, only to find Gilbert dead asleep and resting against him. Matthew froze, not quite knowing what to make of it, and slowly he reached up, easing the former nation into a more comfortable position. He wriggled over a bit and let the man's head fall into the crook of his shoulder, turning a little warm at the contact.

France, of course, thought he was trying to get closer to him. "Oh, _mon cher_, are you cold? America, turn the AC down. Why don't we just open the windows?" He put his arm around the shy nation, pulling him closer. "Would you like to play a game to pass the time?"

Green eyes snapped to the back of the car. Obviously Arthur was feeling a little better. "No he damn well would not! I know what your car games are like, frog, and you will never get Matthew to play 'What am I touching now'!"

Matthew hushed them both, breathing a sigh of relief when he realized that Gilbert was still dead to the world. He glanced over at Francis, knowing the one thing most likely to keep them quiet. "Actually, I'm a little sleepy... I'm going to take a nap, okay?"

"Oh, _oui_, of course, I think I have a pillow here somewhere. Would you like to sleep on my lap?" Francis let out a yelp when England slapped him. "Maybe you could sit up front, actually. It's almost Gilbert's turn to drive anyway."

"N-no, it's fine, I'll just lean against you." He turned his eyes up to Francis the way he had as a child, knowing it could only serve him well. "I don't need a pillow as long as I have your shoulder."

That made the older nation practically swoon, and offered up his shoulder easily. But Alfred had seemed to have already pulled over. "A deal's a deal! It's albino-freak's turn. Hey Prussia! Wake up!"

Gilbert woke with a jerk, not even realizing he had fallen asleep. "What do you want? I didn't want to wake up to your godawful voice."

Matthew glared at Alfred, who didn't even seem to notice. "Alfred! He was sleeping!"

"So?"

"... So if he's so obviously tired, it's not safe to let him drive!"

But Gilbert waved him off. "No, it's fine, I can drive. Fair's fair, right?" He unbuckled and opened the door, and they both switched seats. Great, now he was next to a hung over England. He was fine when drunk, but he was twice as bad when he was hung over.

Matthew sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes. If they were going to crash, he was gonna be asleep when it happened. No use dying in a panic.

"Wake me up if we're still alive in a couple of hours," he mumbled, burrowing himself deep into his oversized sweatshirt.

America snuggled in beside him, pulling out a gameboy. "Well, you can sleep for two hours, but I think you're driving after Arty. And I'm not sure we even want him driving."

Matthew didn't know how to say that he didn't want to without sounding like a spoiled brat. "Uh... sure." He totally was. Damn the people around him for turning him into one. He sighed and leaned against his brother, eyes falling shut.

Up front, Gilbert realized that he was going to have to drive most of the way to keep Canada from driving. Damn. Well, maybe he could just challenge America at some point to see who was the better driver, so that he could have a break.

The ride was silent for the next few hours as Matthew dozed, save for the hum of the engine and the quiet sounds of Alfred's game turned down low. At one point England fell asleep, too, and his snoring added to the minimal noise. When Gilbert pulled over to a gas station to fill the tank, Matthew was roused by the feeling of being gently relocated to Francis' shoulder while Alfred got out to stretch his legs and buy a soda. He nuzzled the shoulder sleepily and glanced up, his eyes in a daze.

Francis looked up from his book with a smile. "Had a good sleep? Do you need to use the restroom?" He indicated the gas station out the window, but mostly they just saw Prussia filling up because the gas tank was on their side of the car.

Matthew made a noise and wrinkled his nose. He didn't want to be awake when sleep was so pleasant, but he knew it would be his turn to drive. Canada closed his eyes and sighed, realizing after a moment that his glasses were gone. "Gnn... glasses..."

He handed them to him, ruffling Canada's hair fondly. "You had fallen asleep with them on, so I took them off for you. Just like when you were a child." He opened the door and got out, extending a hand. "Come, we all need a stretch."

Matthew mourned the loss of the comfortable warmth and followed, realizing quite suddenly that he really did have to use the bathroom... and rather badly, at that.

A few minutes later he left the bathroom and, distracted by the candy aisle, nearly ran into someone at the coffee fountain. "Ah, sorry, I- oh, Gilbert." He glanced down at the large coffee in the albino's hand and then up into his eyes. "That's... quite a bit of caffeine there. How long was I out?"

He shrugged, adding some sugar to it. "A few hours. I don't know how, with Alfred reading the map, but we haven't gotten lost yet." Even though he hated it, he was careful to use their human names when in public. Gilbert pointed to Matthew's hand. "How does it feel? Hurt still?"

"Hmm?" Matthew glanced down at the bandage, flexing his hand. "It stings, and it'll be sore for a while, but nothing catastrophic." He reached for a cup of his own and filled it with the caffeine boost French vanilla, wondering if he didn't make a big deal out of it, no one would notice that he was drinking caffeine and make him throw it out. When it was full he glanced at a clock by the cash register and his eyes widened. He'd been out for four and a half hours. Half of him wondered how he could have possibly slept that long, despite how little he'd slept the night before, and the other half realized suddenly just how long Gilbert had taken the wheel for him. He glanced at the man who was eying the candy with mild interest. "What do you want?" he asked, coming to stand beside him.

Looking up, Prussia blinked. "I'm thinking about a coffee crisp, whatever those are. But they have coffee in the name, and they're chocolate, so they can't be that bad, huh?" His eyes fell on the small cup in Matthew's hand. "And who's that for?"

"Me. And I'm going to enjoy every minute of it while I still can." He grabbed a couple of packs and Gilbert's drink before walking to the register and placing them all on the counter.

Following him, Prussia leaned against the counter. "Fine, but if our kid turns out short I'm blaming you." He ignored the strange look from the cashier and focused on what Canada was doing. "Hey, you can't pay for those. I pay my own way. Well, for food. For lodging I mooch off people, but I can pay for food at least. It's not like I'm broke."

Canada offered up the money anyway and merely handed the chocolate bars and coffee to Prussia without an explanation. If he'd said that it was a thank you for taking up so many hours for him, Gilbert would act like he didn't know what Matthew was talking about, or something silly, and might not go out of the way to do something kind again any time soon, lest it tarnish his reputation. "So where are we now?"

"I think we just got into Alberta." Gilbert said, grudgingly taking the cup and bars. He considered it a bribe for letting him have the coffee. And of course, that's when Alfred walked up. "Hey! Man it smells great up here. What's that?" He asked, eyes immediately going to the small cup of coffee in Matthew's hands.

"Uh..." Matthew paused, forcefully stopping himself when he was about to release the _truth, _of all things. "It's Gilbert's. His hands are full and he's sitting up front with me while I drive. Isn't that right?"

The Prussian raised an amused eyebrow. "Well, not quite. Matt's gonna hold my shit up front while I drive. But yeah, that's mine, I like having two cups with me in case one breaks." The benefit of being the awesomest nation alive (until he was, you know, not a nation) was that he had gotten to be a pretty good liar.

Matt frowned. "Gilbert's just being obstinate. _I'm _driving. And when we're done here, we can eat the lunch we packed." He patted Alfred on the shoulder and quickly hurried out of the building before the American could ask any more questions.

Leaving America behind, Gilbert caught up to him. "You know, even if they're in the back, they will still be able to see your hand. Besides, I'll have all this caffeine in my system, I'll have to stay awake. You'll have nothing. Unless they all fall asleep and you can steal some of _my _coffee."

Matthew glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "But if I'm driving, they won't try to wrestle it out of my hands. And you need a break." He smiled faintly and lifted the cup, breathing in the heavenly, rich scent. "Oh, I've missed you, sweet caffeine."

"Yeah, no. If you were gonna drive anyway, then the last four hours have been in vain, and I don't won't let all my driving go to waste. So no, you won't drive." Gilbert stood in front of the car, guarding the driver's side.

Matthew had to move fast. In record time he threw open the passenger side door and slid over to the driver's seat, smacking the lock down and smirking at Gilbert through the window. The albino threw up his hands, careful to not spill his coffee. "Fine! Drive! See if I care! Don't come whining to me if they make us stop at a hospital!" He went around the car and got in the passenger side, grateful that everyone else seemed to be walking somewhere. Once inside, he put the coffee in the cup holder. "I thought you didn't want them to see your hand, but whatever! Drive with your left! Get us in a horrific accident! You guys won't die, 'cause you're still fucking countries, right?"

Matthew glanced in the back, relieved to find that Francis and Arthur were pulling the cooler out of the bed of the truck, rifling around for the sandwiches. "Gilbert, shush!" He frowned at his irritated guest, covering his hands with his sleeves. "There's no reason to get upset. No one's going to die, especially if someone who's had a four hour nap is at the wheel. You need a break, so stop complaining and eat your damn candy."

As it was, Gilbert was gloomy for the next few hours. Through the PB&J sandwich, through all of his chocolate bars, and through the coffee. It wasn't often that he would freely do something nice for someone, and Matthew just took the wheel and didn't let him continue with the kind act. Why did he even bother, then? Sure, it wasn't anything big, it had just been driving, but it had still been something that he was doing for Canada.

After an hour exactly, Matthew was forced out of the driver's seat. No one wanted to put any strain on him at all, of course, so England took the wheel this time. Apparently he was fully recovered from the hangover.

In the back seat Matthew once again felt himself squished between Alfred and Francis, pointing out specific streets and corners to turn. Now that they were in town, he knew exactly where to go, the streets imprinted in his very soul. When they reached the mall, he tuned out Alfred's excited chatter and made sure England drove around to the side where the hotel was situated, telling his brother very clearly that before anything else, they would be checking in and unpacking.

Francis had called ahead and made reservations, because he had connections practically everywhere, so he went to the front desk first. Everyone else was set unpacking the car, even if America was already looking at all the sights, wanting to go everywhere at once. As soon as the car was unpacked, they made their way inside, everyone loaded up with stuff, except Matthew, who was carrying France's book and the small cooler.

"I can carry more, you know," he insisted as Alfred took his bag and swung it over a broad shoulder. "Really, I can. I'm not a fragile waif."

"Matthew, you're only pregnant once, and as such, we only get to spoil you once without causing an international hissy fit. Why not enjoy it instead of fighting it all the time?" England said with a shrug, patting Matthew's head as though the Canadian didn't have at least five inches on him.

Once they had pulled Francis away from flirting with a bemused receptionist, they found their rooms, situated on the second floor (to Matthew's irritation, the reason they didn't have one higher up was so that he wouldn't "strain himself" walking up and down too many stairs in case the elevator broke down). There were two bedrooms in total, connected by a door inside; one master bedroom, and one double. Matthew couldn't help but wonder aloud what the arrangements would be for the three beds.

Francis was the one to explain, since he had made the arrangements. "You will have the bedroom to yourself, _moi et_ Gilbert will be taking one bed, and Alfred and Arthur the other. And if they keep us up by having sex, we all have permission to pour ice water over them."

Matthew's eyes went wide. "Ah, no, I don't need that enormous bed all to myself; surely it'd be better for two of us to share it. Right? Guys?" He looked down at himself. He wasn't even showing all that much... There was no way he was too big to share. But the other four had already gone into discussion about who got which bed, Alfred wanting the one by the window. Eventually he got what he wanted and everyone started putting their bags where they wanted them.

Matt gave up and tossed what little baggage he'd been allowed to carry down, snatching his bag from Alfred and retreating to his room. The room was rather large and the bed was more than pleasant to flop down on. He very nearly regretted taking a nap earlier, wishing he'd been tired enough to sleep in it now. Matthew tuned out the sound of near-constant squabbling through the open door and sighed, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets with his eyes on the ceiling. The bed was so big. It was such a waste to sleep in it alone.

* * *

><p>Gilbert quietly snuck away and went outside to knock on the door from the hallway leading to Matthew's room. After all, if he went right in through the adjoining door, the others would get suspicious. Once the door was open, he put his finger to his lips and nodded toward the unused entryway. "Let me see your hand. You have a bathroom in here right?"<p>

Matthew watched him for a short moment in a daze before his eyes snapped open and his back straightened. "Ah, o-okay. Just... just a minute!" He shuffled over to the adjoining door and closed it, waving to Francis when he caught the elder's eye. "I can do this, you know..." he shuffled over, slowly meeting Gilbert's eyes.

The Prussian walked in the room and shrugged. "I said I would. Besides, I found this at the drug store downstairs, says it'll make it heal faster." Gilbert held up a small tube of ointment, and turned it over to read the directions. "Not allergic to anything that could be in this, are you?"

Canada gave him a dry look. "Here, just... crap. I didn't bring any bandages with me. All I have is this one." He pulled up his sleeve and lifted his palm.

"You don't need a bandage, I'm sure it's stopped bleeding, and this is just a creme that you can put on. It'll be less obvious without the bandages anyways." Gilbert held out his hand, waiting for Canada to give him his.

Canada leaned against the sink and lifted his hand, watching as Gilbert took it and gently unwrapped the bandage, dropping it into the garbage. "When did you have the chance to buy this?" he asked quietly.

"When we came in. The drug store was right there so I figured why the hell not, right?" Prussia looked at the cut under the light, and deemed it good enough to pass as a scratch. He gently rubbed some of the creme on it. "How does it feel?"

Matt winced. "Mm... It smarts, but I think I'll live." He lifted his eyes and curled his fingers a bit. "I didn't even notice you'd gone." Or that he'd care enough to do such a thing. Driving a couple of extra hours was one thing. Going out of his way to buy him medicine was another completely. He felt warmth creeping into his chest before he could stop it. "Ah... thank you." Matthew looked up a bit shyly. "Really."

Gilbert smiled as well, the gloom from the car ride completely gone. "Alright, well I better get back before they start thinking I'm off lighting something on fire or whatever." He quickly left the room, and went back to the one shared among the remaining four.

France looked up from unpacking his bag. "Where did you go? You just disappeared."

"Oh, I went to see where the ice machine is. In case we need it to cool those two down." Prussia pointed to the other bed, getting a glare from both of them.

Arthur rolled his eyes and stood, moving to the conjoining door and knocking. "Matthew? Would you like to come out and help us make plans?"

After a short moment Canada stepped out, his eyebrows raised high. "Really? I can't imagine you're gonna let me do much, mom, mom and mom."

"No no! You can do a lot of stuff!" America protested, pulling his brother over to his bed. "Like you can shop! You love to shop! And I bet you would wanna go in the wave pool. But not too deep! You could get a cramp and drown. But no matter what, no hot tub." Arm around him, Alfred grinned. "But don't worry about that stuff, you'll be totally safe cause you'll always have someone with you."

Matthew rolled his eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day. "Gee, thanks. Wanna hold my hand, too, in case I accidentally trip and spear the baby with some random evil spike in the ground?"

America started laughing, but then seemed to think about it. "Well, the spike thing is a little far-fetched, but it wouldn't be good to fall either! And... what's that on your hand?" Alfred made a grab for the appendage, seeing the thin red line across it.

Eyes wide, Matt couldn't help but send a panicked glance at Gilbert. "Ah, uh... Oh, I'd forgotten all about that." He forced an easy laugh out. "I, um, I guess I forgot that was there. I just caught my myself on the door. Earlier." He grinned at his brother. "I'm just so clumsy nowadays."

Gilbert had to restrain himself from hitting his own forehead. He didn't realize just how bad a liar Canada was.

But it convinced Alfred. "What? Here? Was there a nail or something in the door? We should sue! Someone could seriously hurt themselves on that! Let me see it, does it hurt? Oh no, it wasn't a rusty nail was it? Do you need a tetanus shot? Can you even get one when you're pregnant?"

"Uh..." Matthew blinked. "N-no, it was... at my house. A nail. But it's okay; Gilbert fixed it for me."

As soon as his name was said, all eyes fell on the albino. Oh shit...

"He... fixed it for you, did he?" Alfred said, eyebrow raised in accusation.

Matthew saw their sharp gazes and put a hand on Alfred's wrist. "He really helped me out, Al. And he wrapped my hand because I couldn't."

That seemed to calm him down enough to stop sending murdering glares at Prussia, but it did little for England. "Fine Matt, if you say so. Alright, so it's pretty late to go to the mall tonight, so I was thinking we could go eat at a bar. Then tomorrow, we spend all day at the mall! And, Mattie, you always have to have someone with you, like I said. There are dangerous people there, and you don't carry a gun!"

Glad to be out of the fire, Matthew brightned instantly. "Okay. Let me shower first. I've got that been-in-the-car-all-day stench."

As Canada walked to his own room, the rest of the gang sniffed themselves, and all made a dash for the bathroom. Gilbert got there first. "Shut up, fair's fair! Matt can lend someone his shower when he's done, we'll all be outta here in an hour!" He said, closing the door in everyone's face. Now, for a nice warm shower.

Matthew jumped at the sudden sound of slamming fists against his bathroom door, yelping when the complimentary shampoo suds dripped into his eyes. "Agh, dammit! What?"

"Mattie! Are you almost done? Prussia's hogging the other shower!" Alfred whined from the other side of the door.

Trying to rinse his eyes out, Matthew cursed to himself, a colorful mix of English and Quebecois. "I just started, Al! Chill out for a few minutes!"

But the door opened anyway. "Plus I gotta take a piss. Better to do it here than in the one that jerk's in, am I right?"

"Al!" Matt cried, glaring around the curtain at his brother. "I'm taking a shower, dummy! Can't you just hold it?"

"No! And besides, it won't change the temperature of the water, because it's a hotel, they have a continuous hot water thing. It's really cool. You can have a hot shower for however long you want!" Besides, it wasn't like it would be the first time.

"Ugh. Just hurry up and get out of here or I'll take longer to finish just to spite you."

Just as Prussia said, in about an hour they were out the door and in the nearest pub. Alfred had made a pin that said CAN'T DRINK on it and pinned it to Matthew's shirt, just in case he was propositioned. It was either that or say he was seventeen, but then he would be kicked out completely.

"Is this really necessary?" Matthew said dryly, pushing the hair out of his face. "I mean, we just got here, and Alfred's already tipsy. Don't you think I have any self control?"

"Of course we do!" America exclaimed, _definitely_ already tipsy. "But this is a bar! What if you order a soda, and they think you mean beer, and you don't look at your glass before taking a drink? Now this way everyone knows you can't have any!"

"Alfred, these people are trained to make drinks. I'm fairly certain that if I asked for a soda, they'd give me a soda." He sighed and looked to England for support, only to find the man practically face-first in a pint of something dark amber and fragrant. Gilbert was faring no better (they almost seemed to be engaged in some sort of unspoken drinking contest) and even Francis' cheeks were taking on a healthy wine blush.

... This was already shaping up to be a bad idea.

* * *

><p>"Ohmigod I can see the stars! Mattttt I can see the starrrrrsssssssss!" Alfred was slurring from the back seat, where he had his head stuck out the window and was looking up. The reason <em>why <em>he was practically out the window was evident a second later, when he promptly threw up all over the sidewalk. Matthew was regretting allowing them to go so far as to actually drive around the building to the bar for his sake, because the motion of the vehicle was not helping Alfred's situation in the least.

"Oh, for the love of... we're going back to the hotel. Alfred, get your head back in the car when you're done upending your guts. Gilbert, stop trying to push him out the window. Francis, if you even think about it, I'll pull over and you'll walk back to the hotel." He ignored England's ramblings over America's treachery and sped up a bit just to reach the hotel as fast as he possibly could.

Dragging the three out of the car and shepherding over through the reception area was difficult enough with Francis trying to schmooze everyone still awake, and Alfred running... rather, stumbling ahead and England tripping over himself, but Gilbert seemed to be lagging behind. He shouldn't have let them abstain from alcohol for so long; it had made them all crazy. Canada unlocked the door to their room and ushered them all in before he stepped back into the hall. "Come on, Gil," he coaxed to the one dragging behind. "Sleepy?"

"Jus' lookin' at yer ass," the Prussian slurred, catching himself on the wall before he fell over. Damn, why couldn't everything just stay still?

Matthew caught him and winced at the scent of alcohol on his breath. "Mmhmm. Come on, Gil, let's go inside and get you in bed, okay?"

Once inside, Gilbert fell into the bed face first. "Mm, y'always liked gettin' me in bed," he mumbled into the pillow. Luckily no one heard or he probably would have been pummeled to death. Or, in the state everyone else was in, puked on.

On the other side of the bed Francis was restless, standing up to roll into the other bed and the other two were no where to be seen. Probably in the bathroom. Matthew didn't want to elaborate on the thought. He pulled Gilbert's shoes off and patted his cheek to try to get him to focus on his face. "If you need to use the bathroom and it's taken, I have one. Just come in if you've got to, alright?"

"Mm don't even know wut I would do to yer sexy bathroom..." Gilbert mumbled as he rolled over, managing to flop his arm over Canada's shoulder and start drag him down onto the bed.

Matt firmly planted his hand on Gilbert's arm and pushed him back down. "No, Gil," he said sternly. "No more. I already told you. You need to sleep."

All he received in return was a rattling snore. Canada was content with leaving things as they were, so he went back to his own room. A few minutes later, he heard the bathroom door open, and Alfred and Arthur stumbled out.

Matthew stripped down and put on a clean blue t-shirt and baggy pajama pants, settling into bed while the other three shuffled around, mumbling behind the closed door. He switched off the lamp beside his bed and snuggled down, completely ignorant of the bed arrangements being made in the room just beyond.


	7. Chapter 7

I APOLOGIZE. I had to delete the last chapter because Tyger brought to my attention that I accidentally posted the wrong chap. This normally wouldn't have been a problem, but it became such when I realized that the 16k chapter that was supposed to be there was mysteriously vanished, and I was really not looking forward to re-re-editing sixteen-thousand words. But. Tyger did the editing for me (which is why there are so many 'u's in 'color' this time around), and A Bird in the Hand will now resume its weekly Tuesday updates. Also, I tacked the chapter I accidentally posted before onto the end. So you have a 25k chapter to make up for my mistake. :D -Bya

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><p>Hours later, sometime deep into the night and early in the morning Matthew woke, heart pounding and mind reeling. He tentatively touched his stomach under the shirt, shivering when he found that all he could feel was the smooth, barely noticeable curve of his belly and nothing more. It had all been a dream. No one had come in the night to cut through flesh and rib to steal the minuscule child nestled within.<p>

But there were still shadows on the walls and faint noises sounding every so often, and Matthew didn't feel safe, all alone in the big bed, more than vulnerable to whatever wanted what had become so precious to him. He crawled out of bed, pillow clutched to his chest for support, and quickly scurried over to the partition door.

The room beyond was quiet, a gentle snore here and there, but for the most part silence reigned. Matthew tried to remember which bed Alfred was sleeping in as he quickly closed the door behind him and decided, before anyone could grab at his ankles from under a bed, that it must have been the one furthest from the door. He crawled in from the foot of the bed and dove under the covers, moving close to the body nestled there. Interestingly enough, only Alfred was in bed. There was no small body of England accounted for, but Matthew paid it little mind, curling in toward the warm body of his brother. He felt instantly safer and, once his adrenaline high faded, he soon fell back to sleep, the feeling of an arm curling around his side familiar and secure.

Moments later, Gilbert came out of the bathroom, eyes still half closed in almost-sleep. Crawling into his bed, he found it strangely full. In the moonlight, he could make out two heads of wavy blond hair. Why the hell was Francis cuddling his Matthew? So, still mostly drunk and more than half believing this was probably a dream, he got into the bed, pushing a hairy arm off, and pulled the sleeping nation into his own arms, right where he was meant to be.

"You feel so good..." he mumbled into the soft hair tickling his chin. Closing his eyes, Gilbert didn't think about the pregnancy, didn't think about the past two months at all. In his mind, they were back when he could stay the night freely, and not much more. But why stop the fun just because they were going to sleep? His drunk weary hand traveled down Canada's warm torso. "Mmmlike it better when you sleep naked," he mumbled quietly, practically asleep again. That didn't stop his hand from moving further down, nor his cock to respond. Soon Prussia was pressing his hard manhood against Matthew's nice little ass, which he was sure he must have just fucked, because behind his eyelids he was already having half-dreams of it.

Soon, he was fully asleep, hand just making it to the waist of Matthew's pajama pants, still painfully hard against him. In Prussia's dreams, he was fucking Matthew over a surfboard in the ocean. His skin was glittering from the water, and he kept asking for more, rutting up against Gilbert like a perfect little slut.

He came then, and it would have been no surprise had he been awake and thinking rationally. Months had passed since his last fuck, and those same months had passed without the smaller body in his arms pressed against him so perfectly. Some time after that, oblivious to the frustration of the sleeping man behind him Matthew turned, rolling closer to Francis, only to be pulled back instinctively by the albino. Still asleep, Matthew burrowed toward the warmth he found against Gilbert's body, his cheek pressed flush against the Prussian's collar bone.

Outside, once the sun slowly began to rise, inside the overstuffed hotel room, no one woke. Canada readjusted himself in his sleep, unconsciously brushing his crotch against Gilbert's. After the wet dream, the Prussian was still sensitive, so he gave a few small grunts, and with his body reacting and moving against Canada's, he was soon fully hard.

It wasn't so much that either of them were aware of what was going on, but their bodies seemed to have a fairly good idea. While Matthew's brain was asleep, his lower half seemed to have a mind of its own and reacted to Gilbert's with sudden, extreme interest.

Gilbert's hand, that was still around Matthew's lower body, pulled them together even more, making it easier for their groins to rut together. Both were breathing fairly heavily, the steamy air between then enough to fog up glass.

It was only when he'd nearly reached the point of no return that Matthew found himself roused into consciousness, one leg slipped in between Gilbert's to make moving urgently against the albino far easier. Though his mind was slowly awakening to the situation, his cock had no qualms with keeping up the pace.

Before he could remember why it was a terrible idea, Matthew tilted his head upward and moved closer, his lips parted and hungry. And then he stopped, frozen and stiff as it clicked and he realized exactly what he was doing- that this was not a dream, but rather cruel, cruel reality.

At the first touch of those lips, Gilbert was also roused from sleep, and he opened his eyes, to stare right into the dark blue ones, inches from his own. Both bodies immediately stopped all movement, and it seemed as if even their hearts stopped beating. The albino quickly moved backwards, wanting to give Matthew space, thinking that this must be his fault and that Canada was going to freak suddenly and... he fell off the bed.

Matthew couldn't move for a long moment and couldn't force himself to, not to look over the edge of the bed, not to check and see if anyone else had woken up, and certainly not to observe what seemed to be a wet spot on the back of his pants situated oddly against the cleft of his ass. His brain couldn't convince him to move, so his body took off on it's own, and before he could even chance a glance at the albino, he had fled to his own bedroom.

Gilbert sat up, painfully rubbing his head. "Damn, what the hell?" And why the hell were his boxers wet? Last night... he remembered something about a surf board. And before that, he had a dream about back when he and Matt were just fuck buddies? He stood up, careful to not wake anyone, not wanting them to see his current state. Sticky, wet, and painfully hard. Gilbert went into the bathroom, figuring that it was early enough to get up and have a shower, since there was no way in hell he was going back to bed like this.

He turned the shower on and took off his clothes. He was still wondering what Matthew was doing in his bed. Had he tried to sleep with Francis? The thought made Gilbert frown. If anything he would have expected him to go to America, not Francis.

But once in the shower, Gilbert's mind went to something else. His erection had not fallen in the few minutes since he had stepped into the bathroom. So the reminder of how it felt to have Matthew pressed up against him, hot and sweaty popped into his head and stayed there. Well, no point putting it off or he would just have the problem all day. So he leaned against the wet tile, hand traveling to his 'five meters'.

Normally, Gilbert went fast and wild when masturbating, wanting the most pleasure as soon as he could. But today, he started off slow, not wanting to have it done and over with. This time, he had recent memories to spur him on, to relive, if only briefly. Gilbert took his cock in a loose grip, just thumb and pointer-finger touching, moving them all the way along his shaft.

He took the small vial of shampoo, figuring what the hell, and poured half of it on his hand to make it smoother. He tried to think how Matt would masturbate. Would he maybe even finger himself? Gilbert could picture it, if he closed his eyes. Matthew face down on the sheets, ass in the air, one hand holding the base of his dick while the other hand moved furiously in and out... God, that kid was so sexy. It was really a shame that he didn't know how to use it. If he did, he would probably make the Bad Touch Trio into a Quartet. But that sounded fucking gay. Bad Touch Group was much better.

How had Canada first touched him? Prussia moved his hand, turning it the other way, as if someone else was jerking him. At first he had been nervous, that was for sure. Nervous and holding too tight, like it was a fucking life line. But then he had eased up, probably when Gilbert had started touching him as well. And he had done this thing with his thumb, what was it? Maybe swiping it over the head on the upstroke... Gilbert tried that, and yes, that was definitely what Matthew had done. He let out a small groan, thinking about the nation's long slender fingers wrapped around his cock, just like right now.

But the best part of the Canadian was his mouth. Every fucking thing about it. The way he would lick his bottom lip when he was being shy, the way he would bite it when he was concentrating. The way he kissed in the middle of sex, wet and enthusiastic, and the way he would kiss in the morning, not opening up his mouth for fear of morning breath. Best of all was the way he gave head. He seemed so innocent and everything, but when he was giving head everything changed. Goddamn expert when it came to a good blow job. And he looked so damn naughty when he was swallowing it all down his throat...

"Damn," Gilbert mumbled, looking down at the ribbons of white swirling down the drain. That was probably the longest he had jerked off to anyone specific in years. And, the worst part of it was that it would probably have to tide him over for a while. At least until he got home at the end of the week.

In the bathroom one room over, Matthew's knees gave way and he sank to the shower floor, head buried in his hands. Streams of semen sank down the drain but he couldn't bear to watch, so filled with shame that he was. He was stupid, ridiculous and careless. He couldn't even keep his own desires in check. Standing slowly Canada shut off the shower and stepped onto the cold floor beyond, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around himself. If it could have been a mere reaction in his body, he might have been able to forgive it, but that wasn't the case. He had not just reacted to the feel of a body on his. His mind had conjured, deep in slumber, not just any man, but one with pale skin, silver hair, crimson eyes, a smirk that could just as soon pull his final strings taut as it could send hot shivers down his spine. Little had he known that when his mind conjured up the image of Gilbert holding him, moving against him, poised to fill him completely, his body really was experiencing the very same sensations. Waking to Gilbert's hand cupping his ass, molding Matthew's body to his for domination and pleasure, that was nothing new. But it was never supposed to happen again. And that it did only made the wall Matthew had worked so hard to build come crashing around his ears.

But he had kissed him. He had kissed him because in his heart, he'd needed it, and crawled into his bed, and however unintentional it may have been, he was in the wrong. And it proved without a shadow of a doubt that everything he'd feared was true. He wasn't over Gilbert.

The only thing that made it worse was that all of his feelings decidedly ran far deeper than the simplicity of lust.

* * *

><p>Matthew scrambled to right his glasses once Alfred finally stopped shaking him. "Sorry, my brain was scrambled. I'm sure I didn't hear you right. Surely you didn't just say that I'm not allowed to do anything while you four get to go through all of my rides."<p>

"Of course not! You can go on a few of the rides. Just not any dangerous ones. Don't wanna take any chances, right? Besides, you still sometimes get morning sickness, you would probably puke on the Mind Bender!" Alfred explained, trying to make it seem better. "Oh! And you can go on almost all of the water slides. Just not the black hole... and maybe a few others, I'll have to test them first."

The Canadian nation scowled and pushed Alfred's arm away. "So what, you just expect me to sit and twiddle my thumbs while you guys have all the fun? Really, Al?" He was a little more than angry at that point. With their over-protectiveness and the lack of caffeine combined (not to mention that morning's little embarrassment with Gilbert), Matthew was about to lose his cool demeanor completely. His hormones stirred inside of him and began to crush his long, long string of patience. "No, wait, I know what you're gonna say. 'No, Mattie, just go shopping, you looove shopping. Ah, but wait, you can't go alone because you're totally helpless and vulnerable, so yeah, just sit tight. We won't be more than a few hours.'"

Francis patted him softly on the shoulder. "One of us will go with you wherever you want to go, so feel free to go wherever you want. Just make sure Arthur, Alfred, or I are with you." Because no one really trusted him with Prussia.

Canada tried to reign in his irritation, but could only keep silent, moving away from the nation's physical contact. He wasn't a child, and they were being so obnoxious, treating him like he couldn't take care of himself. It was ridiculous. If he were more outgoing, more susceptible to acting on emotions, he might have just walked away. "No. Forget it. Just go have fun. I'll find a bench or something."

"No, it's fine Mattie, how about we go to the water park? That would be fun! And you can do almost all the rides!" Alfred started getting excited, and grabbed his bag that had his swim trunks in it.

Matt's gaze was dry. "Really. And you're sure that when we get there, you won't change your mind?" That would be so like Alfred. He'd probably think that with all the little kids running around, one of them would bump into him and cause him to miscarry or something crazy like that.

"Like I said, I'll have to test all the slides before you can go on them, and oh! What if you slip? We could try to find anti-slip water shoes..." They had them for kids, did they have them in adult sizes too?

Matthew threw his hands in the air and turned, brushing past Prussia and England. "Screw you, Alfred," he growled, stalking off toward the water park. He wasn't in any mood to play anyway. He wasn't in much of a mood to do anything. He wanted to be alone. Unfortunately, his stupid ass of a brother wasn't willing to give him enough room to do so.

America was running along behind him, and grabbed his hand when he caught up, forcing Matthew to stop and turn around to look at him amidst the ever-flowing traffic of people. "Alright, fine, we don't have to get you water shoes! Why are you being so bitchy? We're all just worried about you."

The younger brother couldn't even keep up his anger when Alfred looked at him with those stupidly open, honestly concerned blue eyes. "I know, Al. I just... I really do appreciate it, but I hate being babied so much. I got sick of it about three hundred years ago, you know?" He huffed, glancing down and then slowly back up at his brother over the thin rims of his spectacles. It was like people were finally seeing him and paying him attention, but he was still as left out as ever.

"Well, it's just for nine months. Uh, now more like seven. We just want what's best for you and the baby." Alfred grinned, patting Matthew's stomach.

Matthew tried to be uplifted by that, but it didn't work. In fact, his thoughts sunk further. After seven months he wouldn't be so sheltered, but once he had the baby, he just knew that he was going to be forgotten again. There wouldn't be anything special about him anymore. Matthew swallowed thickly and looked back down at Alfred's shoes. "Yeah... you're right," he murmured. To keep his brother from worrying, he looked back up with a smile. "Right. Just seven months. Have fun, okay?" Canada playfully punched his brother in the arm. "You're gonna need it before you have to go answer to your boss and skyscrapers of paperwork."

At that thought, America frowned. "I don't wanna go back. Why can't I just stay with you?" They got to the water park, paid and went to the change room. Alfred went to the few with curtains, since Matthew was always so self-conscious about changing in public.

Following his brother, Matthew silently began to change, noticing himself after a short moment in the mirror. His shirt, fisted in his hand, was still as he looked over his body. His hips were still narrow and his shorts fell just slightly off, and from the front everything was normal, but if he turned, he could see a very slight curve to his stomach. No strangers could see, and because of the privacy Canada felt okay to rub a hand over his belly. His skin was soft but the bump was firm. "Hi," he said quietly, staring down at it for a long moment. "Sorry for all the stress. I think I'm just hungry." Matthew stroked it fondly for a moment with a little smile on his face before stripping off his pants.

Once they were both in their shorts, Alfred grinned, also noticing the belly. "Haha! You look fat!" Obviously, it wasn't fat, it was only the baby, but it_ looked_ like fat. Matt pretended to ignore him, though he did end up slipping his shirt back on. He wouldn't take it as an insult, though. He was glad, in fact, that he'd seen the bump at that moment. He'd needed it. It helped him to remember that he was being selfish, that they really did have his best interests in mind. Matthew had been so busy feeling sorry for himself that he'd forgotten just how precious and delicate the life inside of him was.

"Oh come on, you don't look that fat! I bet no one will even notice. You can't go in there with your shirt on." Alfred pulled at the white fabric, giving him a smile. He looked younger without his glasses, tucked away in his clothes, and Matthew just looked cuter. Matt huffed, shoving his brother playfully.

"Then don't tell me I'm fat, you jerk. I'm not chubby like you." He poked Alfred's firm stomach, knowing that despite the fact that Alfred worked out on a regular basis, his population's obesity statistics made him paranoid. "I've got a second person in here. What's your excuse?"

He pouted, covering up his own stomach. "Hey! My excuse is that I've had seven! Getting rid of the baby fat gets harder the more you have." They made their way to the door, and as soon as it opened the noise level increased tremendously.

Matthew groaned, keeping close to Alfred. "That's not fair. You don't even look like you've ever eaten a happy meal in your life. I'm gonna look like the damned Dough Boy when all this is over." The halls were wet underfoot. They shoved their meager belongings in the lockers and stepped out into the water park.

"Don't worry, if you want I could get you on a training scheduled that would get you back to normal in two months. It's the same that the supermodels use - it works really well. Wish they had it when I was... you know."

"I'd die," Matthew replied without hesitation, nodding vigorously. He wondered exactly what Alfred would deem "safe enough" for him. "I'm not a supermodel. I'm more of a... hockey-season kinda fit. A few months of the year I'm in tip top shape, and then I'm just... lean, and that's where I wanna be. I don't want any of your freakish musculature."

That made Alfred laugh, before he was distracted by all the water slides. "Oooh, I wanna go on that one! Oooh, look at that one! I have to try that blue one! I mean, to make sure they're safe for you, of course."

"Uh huh." Matthew suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and smiled instead. "Hey, what exactly do you think could go wrong on the slides? They make sure no one's at the bottom before they let anyone on, and there's nothing that'd threaten my safety if it's proven safe for little kids... I'm sure it's safe enough for me."

"Well, what if there's a sharp edge that you can cut yourself on? What if there is a big belly-flop in the end? I don't trust the people that say they're safe, so I'm going to test them for myself." America went over to the map of the slides, and found out how to get to the one he wanted. "Alright, so just look over the edge at the pool. When I come out, if I give you thumbs up you can go, thumbs down it's not safe."

An indignant feeling bubbled up inside of him but Matthew kept it in check. They carried on this way for the rest of the morning and into the early afternoon. To say that Matthew didn't get to do much was an understatement, but whenever his brother wasn't acting like his mother, the two did have quite a bit of fun together. Eventually the other three found them and demanded that they walk to one of the nearby restaurants for lunch, and by that time Matthew's mood had improved considerably.

Arthur was talking about the pirate ship, and all the inaccuracies there were. Francis, tired of hearing "And what was with those sails?" spoke up. "So Matthieu, I thought after lunch we could go shopping. I saw the cutest baby store on the other side of the mall!"

Matthew looked up from his ice water, his eyes taking on a sheen of excitement. "I would love to," he answered with sincere enthusiasm, turning an apologetic eye to England about interrupting. Arthur huffed but said nothing of it, though he did seem to relax a bit when Francis began to go through all the cute displays he'd seen through the windows.

"But," the Brit interceded, "Matthew doesn't know whether it'll be a boy or a girl yet."

Alfred looked up, shaking his head. "It's totally a boy. Why would it be a girl? I mean, it was made by two guys."

Gilbert didn't speak up, even if he was thinking pretty much the same thing. He really hated agreeing with America on anything.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "By that logic, every baby in the world would be a hermaphrodite, being born of a man and a woman. Think before you speak, man."

"I'm sure there are plenty of gender neutral colours and toys," Matthew said to pacify the argument. "And besides, why should the baby have to conform to gender stereotypes? If I have a little girl, I'll teach her to play hockey, and I'm sure you'd teach her football, Al. And if it's a boy, Francis, you could teach him to bake. That sort of thing."

Francis took Canada by the arm, smiling. "Well, we shall be off. We can meet up at the restaurant over there for supper, around five o'clock? _Au revoir_!"

The shop was cute, quaint, and stuffed from floor to ceiling with toys, blankets, and children's apparel. Matthew never would have thought that he'd ever be interested in this sort of thing, but with Francis lifting random soft, smiling items and pushing them into Matthew's hands to feel and smell, he found that it was actually a terribly fun experience.

There was an entire wall dedicated to baby snacks and looking over them all, Matthew sighed. "I guess it's a good thing it won't be born for six and a half months, or I'd be tempted to empty half the wall."

"_Oui_, but still, we can start buying now. Not snacks, but look at this pink bunny!" Francis held up the stuffy, and then got distracted by the clothes. They were all so cute! As always, he liked the girl clothes better, especially the little shoes. Far too cute for their own good.

Matthew smiled and followed behind the elder, gazing down the long, long line of little girl dress shoes. "I see that look in your eye, _pére_," he said teasingly. "I won't stop you from getting shoes, but I can promise that everyone we're going back to is going to give you crap about it."

But he was waved off as France picked out a pair of pink ones with little heart cutouts. "They are just pigheaded. Those three will get things for boys, so I have to get things for a girl! Maybe it just means that you will have to keep the things for the wrong gender and have another baby."

Canada laughed out loud at that, startling a nearby woman. "I don't think that's in the cards, Francis," he chuckled, shaking his head. He lifted a pair of shiny, powder blue Mary Janes the size of his thumb. "But if I do have a girl, I admit... it'll be handy to have something pretty to dress her in when all I'll have are jerseys and sweater-vests. Or whatever Alfred and Arthur deign fit to buy."

At that Francis frowned. "You don't want to know. I saw Arthur looking at clothes this morning. If you ever let him dress your child, I'm disowning you."

An older lady beside them smiled, looking down at the things they were buying. "Oh, I wish my husband would go shopping for these things. But he never does, even if I'm at home with two screaming kids. Men!"

"O-oh?" Matthew blinked owlishly, his smile slow and awkward. He very nearly responded with a 'me too.' "Is it easier to shop with your husband?" he asked politely. Matt could only imagine that taking one's spouse along for such decisions would just be tiring, especially if they brought their children along.

She laughed, shaking her head. "No, it probably wouldn't be easier, you're right. He wouldn't have any idea what to get. He says he's better with older kids. Do you have a baby, or is there one on the way?"

Matthew blushed as his hand began to creep toward his stomach without his realization. "Ah, on the way," he said sheepishly. "My family and I are very excited."

"I bet. Is it your first? And, is this the proud uncle?" The lady put down the small shirt she was holding, and changed her purse over to the other arm. It wasn't so often she met such a nice father-to-be.

"Yes, my first. And, uh..." He glanced at France, who lifted a delicately arched brow in amusement. Matthew's lips quirked right back. "He's actually the grandfather."

Francis let out a huff of indignation. "I am not! He says that because I practically raised him, but I am only a few years older than him, really." Not really, but that's what their bodies looked like. He didn't want anyone thinking he was an old man.

Once again, the lady laughed. "Well, it was nice talking to you, but I have a soccer game I have to go to soon. Good luck, and congratulations!"

Matthew waved briefly before turning back to Francis. "Oh, come on. You always used to insist that I call you _papa_ and _pére_, but now that I'm going to be a father you want to take it all back?"

"It is different with public, and you know that. When you were a child, _oui_, people believed I was your father, but now we look the same age! Besides, I refuse to be called Grandpa." That just sounded so old.

"Oh, I dunno. You're a sucker for kids. If you heard a sweet little voice calling you grandpa, I imagine you'd be happy to take it." Matthew plucked up an enormous stuffed polar bear, smiling at the incredible softness of it.

But Francis was shaking his head, picking out a cute little outfit to go with the cute little shoes. "No, the child can call me Papa, or big brother, or uncle, not grandpa. It wouldn't suit me! It would suit Arthur better."

"Sure, grandpa." Checking the price tag he winced and put it back. "You know what the baby will really need? A special blanket. All children deserve a blanket special for them." He may not be an expert on kids, but recent discussions with Alfred made him privy to that much at least.

The Frenchman looked around the store, and saw some blankets. They went over took a look, but he wasn't happy with any of them. "No, these are not good enough. They would fall apart in a year. But we have six and a half months to find one."

Canada nodded. "You're right. But in the meantime..."

They spent over an hour in the shop, Francis shopping big, Matthew grabbing only a sparse few, gender neutral items. They stepped up to the cash register after snatching up quite a bit of merchandise, Matthew laying his on the counter first. The cashier made small talk and Matthew thought it only polite to return it, ignoring Francis when mumbled something or other in favour of the cheerful woman. When the stuffed toys and a book of baby recipes had been bagged, Matt scooped up his purchases and looked around only to find that his French companion was no where to be found.

He looked around the little shop but could find hide nor hair of the French nation, and remembered vaguely that France had mentioned something earlier about being thirsty, and when they were in line he had said something that Canada hadn't quite heard. Putting two and two together Matthew supposed that it was only logical that Francis might have stepped out to grab them both something at a nearby cafe. He walked up one crowded hall for a few minutes, finding only candy stores and an ice cream parlor, but no cafe. He felt around in his pockets for his phone and felt momentary panic- he must have forgotten it in his room that morning. He cursed shortly and began wading through the thick streams of people in the opposite direction. Matthew knew that Francis would have already called Alfred and Arthur, and they had probably tried his number a thousand times. He hated worrying people, and now they would just think him unreliable and unable to take care of himself. He was turning out to be as childish as they treated him.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he tried to ignore the tears of frustration budding in his eyes as he pushed through the crowd. He should have just waited in the store. Francis would have come back. He had been stupid to step outside. All the negative feelings from that morning came flooding back and, with the exhaustion that formed from all of the sensory overload spending hours in the mall had caused, he was reaching his breaking point. Canada's lips parted and a quiet curse slipped past as a man who did not see him knocked him for a loop by running into his shoulder. Matthew stumbled back and tried to right himself as the man just continued to walk on.

* * *

><p>Gilbert had just left the gaming store. He figured in a bit, he could head to the candy shop he had seen earlier, stock up for the ride home... well, Canada's home. That's when he saw a hunched form on a bench, head in hands. That looked an awful lot like Matthew... but why would he be crying? Prussia went closer to see better, and up close there was no mistaking the head of blond hair. He was going to put a hand on his shoulder, but after this morning that may not be a good idea, so instead he just sat beside him. "Hey. You alright?"<p>

Matthew's body jerked to attention. His head shot up, eyes wide and overflowing. Hastily he wiped at the tears and cleared his throat. "Uhuh," he said thickly, wiping the moisture off on his pants and looking in the opposite direction. "Just a headache."

"Yeah? Need some Tylenol? Can you even take headache medicine?" Gilbert was already looking for a drug store or something. They had to have some type of drug for pregnant people. But when he looked around, he didn't see... "Where's Francis?"

Matthew's lips split into a wet, humorless laugh as tears spilled fat and warm from his eyes. He shrugged. "I don't know. I lost him."

Prussia raised an eyebrow. "You lost him? Maybe he's in the lost and found box. You'll just have to identify him." He laughed, even as Matthew didn't. "So, is that why you're, like, sitting here and everything? Or are you sticking to the headache story?"

Matthew took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, releasing another watery laugh. "It doesn't matter. I'm here, just sitting on a bench and proving myself useless either way." He did have a headache, though.

"Well, now we're both sitting on a bench." Gilbert didn't like seeing Matt looking so down like this though, he had to think of something to cheer him up. "I uh, saw a skating rink around here somewhere. Not sure if your crazy family would like it, but why don't I take you skating?"

Fantastic. Now even Prussia was trying to comfort him. He really was a child. Matthew tried to frown at him but he had the feeling that it only came across as pathetic. When he opened his mouth, Matthew's words were incredulous and highly suspicious. "You want to go skating. On ice. You."

He just shrugged. "I've been skating before. And I like watching hockey." Besides, it was something to do besides go shopping for the rest of the day. And, after this morning, he really needed to get back in Matthew's good books. Well, not good books, but at least his not-hating books.

Canada was tired. He was mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted. Even so, that was no reason to take it out on Gilbert, morning incidents not withstanding. He sighed. "Okay. Let's go skate."

Luckily the rink rented out used skates, since obviously neither of them had brought their own. Gilbert was soon fed up with all the lacing up, so half way up he just did a big knot. Even with that shortcut, Matthew was already done long before. "Well, let's get out there."

It was familiar and somewhat relaxing to be on the ice. The tall, almost hollow arena was cool and so much quieter than it had been out in the shopping mall. A few children and couples slid around on their blades and families chatted on the silver bleachers outside the glassed-in rink. Matthew immediately spun, circling a small area as Gilbert made his way onto the ice.

Prussia stumbled a bit at first, since it had been so long since he had last been skating. As soon as Gilbert got his footing, he glared at Matthew who was already doing tricks. "Stop showing off."

"Hmm?" Matt blinked before a grin spread over his face and he glided back to Gilbert with ease. "I'm not showing off. I'm just cutting loose." He skated backwards at Gilbert's forward pace, gesturing toward the Prussian's feet. "You seem to be fairly tense."

"Wow, get you on the ice and you get happy. What if your bear died, but you went skating right after?" Gilbert grumbled, moving his feet regularly, skating, and not falling. That was his goal, and as a goal he was accomplishing it very well.

Canada chuckled in good humor, locking his hands behind his back and spinning a bit. "Well, I am Canada. It feels good to be on the ice, so naturally, I'm very happy. You don't look like you're having much fun, though. Relax."

"I _am_fucking relaxed, alright! If I relaxed anymore I would fall on my ass, so leave me alone! Go over there, with the other people that are showing off." At least he didn't have to grab onto the side like a few of the kids... dammit, he had to be better than the kids!

Matt shrugged and took off just like that, picking up speed as he circled the large rink, making it back to Gilbert in record time, gliding in loops around him. "I dunno... you seem pretty tense to me. It looks kinda silly." He slid up behind Gilbert's hunched, focused form and slapped him on the back. "You're less likely to fall if you just allow your body to move, not your brain. And if you get rid of your pride, your fall will be less painful on your ego."

Gilbert tried to slap him back, frown firmly in place, but Matthew was still behind him and he wasn't about to turn around when he just got used to going one way. "Matt, I swear to god, if you don't shut up about how I'm skating, I'll... well, I don't know what I'll do, but you'll regret it. Maybe I'll hide your glasses tonight or something."

"Aw, you wouldn't take a guy's glasses. That's uncalled for. Extending a bit of friendly advice toward someone who looks like he has to take a massive shit while skating seems at least a little called for." He drifted in front of the other and laughed, dodging when Gilbert tried to take a swipe at him.

"Fine! You know what, have your fun, you skate and jump and twirl and all that shit, I'll be on the benches," Gil snapped, managing to turn around without falling over so that he could get to the door.

"Hey, come on, I was only teasing," Matthew insisted, stopping in front of Gilbert so he couldn't move. "Come on, try it, okay? I know a little bit about being on the ice, you know. And if you fall, I promise I won't even laugh. Please?"

Red eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Alright. But you better not laugh. Not that I'll fall. I'm too awesome to fall." He straightened up, and tried to keep up with Matthew, failing miserably.

Matthew kept his promise, offering smiles of encouragement as Gilbert moved toward him. "That's right, keep coming... don't look at your feet, Gil, it'll knock you off balance. Just set up a rhythm in your head and make your body move to it."

Well, that was easy enough. Gilbert quickly set the tempo he used to march to with his armies. But with that he was used to steps, not glides, so it didn't work perfectly, and Matthew still said he was too stiff.

"Here, I'll show you." Matt moved close, glad for his superior control or he would have collided with Prussia, who was moving forward. He waited until the albino came to an awkward halt and held out both of his hands. "I'm going to pull you along and let go when you've reached a decent speed. It's easier to get a pace going when you have some momentum."

"I'm not fucking holding your hands like some kid! For god's, sake I'm centuries older than you!" So instead, he tried to speed up, trying it the same way Matthew seemed to be doing it, pushing off with the tip of his skate. But the tip got stuck, and he ended up falling right on his ass. "Goddammit!"

Matthew watched, stifling all laughter as Gilbert kept trying to stand back up, wincing sympathetically when he fell back down every time. Eventually it became too much and he slid over, crouching beside the frustrated ex nation. "It's okay to have help," he said quietly, holding out his hand again.

If it wasn't Matthew, Gilbert probably wouldn't have grabbed his hand. But it was, so he did. "Well, then _you_ have to ask for help when you need it, _too_. Like before, when you were all worked up over losing Francis."

Matthew pulled him up and made sure he was steady and that no children were behind him before he skated backwards, taking Gilbert with him as he picked up speed. "I accepted it when you offered, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I guess. But what about when you don't want to trouble anyone? Like back at the house, what would you have done if I hadn't been there when you cut yourself? You didn't want anyone to know." Gilbert was surprised by how fast they were going without falling down.

"Well, I'm used to taking care of myself, so I would have washed it and bandaged it and let nature take it's course, I guess." Matthew took another precautionary glance around.

Prussia started moving his feet, so he was kind of skating on his own. "That's what I'm talking about. You should ask for help for shit like that. That was a long cut, and if it wasn't taken care of it probably, it would have been infected." But, there was something bigger that Matthew should have asked for help with. More specifically, asked him for help with, and not just his family. But he wouldn't talk about the baby, not here, not with a bunch of strangers around.

"Okay, now think of a beat... a different one from before... left, right, left, right..." He let go, of one hand, slowing a bit to stay with Gilbert. "I would have taken care of it. I always do. But if it was a life or death situation, I'm not afraid to ask for help. You're doing really well!"

At that Gilbert tore his hands away, drifting forward. "Yeah, ask your fucking family for help, but not the one that matters," he growled, glaring at him. "You would have been happy if I never found out!"

Matthew's heart skipped a beat but he forced a smile, willing the stressful emotions to stop bubbling back to the surface. "I know. I'm sorry. When you used to tell me that all I was needed for was sex and pancakes, I guess I just took it to heart. Oh, look, snow cones. I'll go buy a couple!" He picked up a bit of speed in the opposite direction toward the rink exit and fled.

Which left Gilbert floundering in the middle of the rink. That wasn't fucking fair! He had never said that! Sure, he came for the sex and left after the pancakes, but that didn't mean that was all Matthew was needed for. There were plenty of people in Germany who would have sex with him and make him breakfast; he didn't need to fly all the fucking way to Canada. Didn't he get that? But Prussia still decided to leave the rink after him, silently sitting down to undo the skates.

Matthew returned shortly thereafter with two snowcones in hand, one red and one orange, and his eyes widened a bit to see Gilbert trudging back across the ice with his skates in his hand. "Your feet are going to freeze!" he said, concern written across his face. "Here," he handed Gilbert the treats and skated back, grabbing the Prussian's shoes for him. Honestly, he'd left him at the other side of the rink. It was way too cold to traverse all of that ice with no barrier other than a pair of old socks.

Once he had his shoes back, Gilbert quickly stuffed them on his wet socks and grabbed the ice cone that was handed to him. "Thanks. You can keep skating if you want. I'm going to the bench. And you can't stop me this time."He didn't need to be told twice. Matthew darted off without looking back. He moved around couples, old and young alike, his mind racing a thousand times quicker than his feet. He was embarrassed and hurt, but guilt gnawed at his stomach without mercy. Prussia was ceaseless in his insistence that Matthew should have told him, but the North American nation didn't know what to think about those proclamations. All they had ever had before the pregnancy was breakfast and intercourse. Why should he believe that now he would want more? What could have possibly changed his mind?

Canada must not have been paying attention because suddenly, without warning, a shriek came from his left and he jolted to attention, jerking himself to the side to avoid hitting a small boy. Ice flew and Matthew fell hard on his hip and elbow. He winced at the sharp pain in his ankle and panted, scrambling blindly for his fallen glasses. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, are you okay?" he stammered nervously, hissing when one wrong move sent stabbing pain running up his arm and ankle nearly simultaneously.

Gilbert saw him go down, and waited for Matthew to get back up, but when he didn't Prussia rushed out there, shoes skidding on the ice. Once he got there, he saw Canada looking for his glasses. "Here. Are you alright?"

Matt looked up toward the vaguely Gilbert-shaped blur and nearly burst into tears. "I-is he okay?" he asked thickly, looking in what he hoped was the direction of the boy. "I m-might have hit him when I went down..."

The albino looked around, but the nearest child was skating quickly back to his parents, looking over his shoulder every so often. "He must be fine, because there's no one here. You hurt yourself, didn't you?" He crouched down and handed Matthew his glasses, making him put them on. Then he glanced at the ankle that he was holding, but nothing could be seen with the skates on. "Come here, lean on me, we'll get to the benches and get these skates off, alright? The other three are gonna kill me if you get seriously injured when I'm watching you."

Matthew yelped when he was pulled to his feet and grabbed onto Gilbert, gritting his teeth. He looked around for the boy to take his mind off of it and saw him and his parents retreating to the exit. Canada swallowed. "I must have kicked him or something. I should have watched where I was going... ow ow, don't touch that!" he yelped when Prussia touched his elbow.

"You hurt your elbow too? Good god, when you fall, you fall hard." But Gilbert was still careful to leave it alone, taking him under the arm to go over to the side of the rink. "You don't think anything is broken, do you? Won't have to go to the hospital?"

Canada gingerly untied his skate and very slowly pulled it off. His lower lip trembled as it touched his ankle all the way off. "Mmnh... n-no, I... I can move my toes... it's just a sprain, I think..."

Nodding, Gilbert took the leg on his lap so he could look at it. "Can you move your foot around? Alright, that seems good. Maybe we could just get you a crutch? They must have a first aid place around here. And what about your elbow?"

Shaking his head, Matt softly rubbed the skin above his elbow. "I'll be fine, I just need to rest for a minute." His eyes took on a look of panic and he leaned forward, snatching the hem of Gilbert's shirt. "You can't tell Alfred! And if I show up with crutches, they'll lock me in my house for the next seven months!"

"Well you can't walk around with a sprained ankle! It'll only make it worse. You'll just have to sit here for a while. Maybe it'll start to feel better. But I bet you'll still walk funny." He looked at the swollen ankle, wondering if it would be better if he got something to wrap it tightly with.

Matthew gnawed on his bottom lip for a moment and buried his face in his hands as Gilbert mumbled to himself. Everything that could have gone wrong today had and everything that his overprotective brothers had expected to happen had happened.

Gilbert looked at him, then awkwardly patted him on the back. "You know, it isn't the end of the world if they know you got hurt. I'm sure you're exaggerating it in your head. Seriously, they'll understand, and if you want I can take the blame. It was my idea to go to the skating rink, right?"

"No, it's not your fault," he insisted, feeling miserable. "I wasn't paying attention. Dammit... I could have really hurt that little boy. I'm sorry..." He looked up. "I owe you an apology. I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't know how to respond."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that too. Shouldn't have snapped like that." He put Matthew's sock back on gingerly. "Well, I say we go to a drug store and get a tensor bandage to wrap this up with. No one will see that."

"I swear, you've had to deal with my ailments in the last few days more than anyone I know has for centuries. I'm really not this clumsy." He let Gilbert slowly put his shoe back on, only one tiny gasp slipping past his lips, and stood, hopping up the stairs with the albino's help.

Being careful of his elbow, Gilbert helped him to the nearest drug store. "I heard somewhere that pregnancy can make you a bit more clumsy. Something about the increase of blood and your body changing and shit."

"How eloquent," Matthew responded with a roll of his eyes. "At least you believe me. That isn't very comforting, though... I'd think it would be important to be less clumsy during pregnancy, though." He noticed a young woman giving him a strange look and blushed, ducking his head. "Let's just get it and go."

They found some, and Gilbert pointed to a bench. "Just wait here, I'll go pay for it and then I'll wrap your ankle for you." He helped Matthew over to the bench, then went to the till.

He waited quietly until Gilbert had returned and untied his shoe, pulling down his sock in the process. "Damn," he muttered as the albino started to wrap his ankle. "I left my Ibuprofen back in the room."

"Can you even have that when you're pregnant?" Gilbert asked, as he carefully wrapped the ankle, making it as tight as he could so that Matthew could walk on it.

"Ow! I don't know... Oh geez, I hope so. I'll die if I can't. Thank you for this." He pushed himself up and took a step, favoring his injured foot. "So, uh... what are we supposed to do now?"

It came as a bit of a surprise when they ended up in front of the Ferris wheel. He blinked up at it and then over at Gilbert. "Really? Isn't this a little... tame for you?"

Hands in his pocket, Gilbert gave a shrug. "Well, you can't do much else. This is the safest ride here, and with your ankle, it's probably the easiest too." He went up to the kid running it, and gave him their tickets. "Come on, just get in here. Maybe your ankle will be feeling better after and we can do something better."

"Huh... maybe you're right." Matthew shrugged and boarded an empty carriage and took one side as Gilbert took the other, closing the small gate and waiting for the ride to start. It was spacious enough not to make him feel cramped and awkward, but it was hard to look his companion in the eye, so when the machine began to turn, he simply looked out the side at all of the people.

Not wanting it to be a completely silent ride, Gilbert thought of something to talk about. "So, you really like hockey, hey? Well, of course you do, fuck, no duh, but... you like to play it too?" Shit, he really sucked at this small talk.

Matthew didn't respond. He didn't seem to hear Gilbert at all. Shrugging, the albino opened his mouth to take another stab at it when the blond finally spoke up. "I had meant to tell you from the very beginning."

Gilbert closed his mouth, looking at him. That... was out of no where. "Yeah? Well it didn't really happen did it? America probably talked you out of it or something, right?" He carefully kept his tone light, not wanting it to sound accusatory.

Wide violet eyes met his very suddenly. "No. Alfred didn't tell me not to say anything. By the time he found out, I'd already decided it would probably be best to keep it from you. At first, I didn't... I didn't know how to approach the topic with you. When you called, before the... the heartbeat thing, the last time we..." Canada went a little warm remembering that morning and forced the thoughts out of his mind. "... had sex. I wanted to tell you then. But I wasn't outright about it and it was a failure. I was discouraged and almost gave up. But after, when I learned about the heartbeat, I thought that maybe if you heard... if you could be as fascinated as I was about it, then it would be the perfect time to tell you. But..." he winced. "You know. It was my fault, all of it, but I really did want to tell you. After that, I just thought it might be for the best if you didn't find out."

Crap, he had almost forgotten about that phone call. Gilbert leaned back in the hard chair, forcing himself to stay calm. "That heartbeat thing... if I had known, of course I would have been interested, you know? But fuck, just out of the blue like that, I just couldn't... well, sorry. I should have been more... sensitive. And shit. Or maybe not. I don't know."

Matthew smiled awkwardly and shrugged. "It's okay. I know it was weird. I was just really excited, and I wanted you to be excited. It wasn't okay of me to get so upset when you weren't. It just became easier after a while to come up with reasons... excuses not to tell you."

Gilbert nodded, and started playing with a hole in his pants. "I get it. But now I know, and neither of us can go back. You can't go back to me not knowing and just staying in Germany, and I can't go back to not knowing and not wanting to be a part of this kid's life. So what do we do now?"

Canada looked down and pushed the glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Well, it's your decision. If you want to back out, you really can. I won't get mad or upset. You didn't know it would happen, and I don't expect you to do anything special."

"You didn't know it would happen either. I'm not going to back out. Well, maybe, after the baby is born, if you still don't want me here, then I'll go back to Germany and the kid will never know I was his father. But unless that happens, I'll help raise the kid as much as I can." Gilbert gave a sigh, looking down at all the people, who were getting closer as the ride turned. "I mean, fuck, this is the most serious thing that has happened to me since Prussia was dissolved. I didn't have anything to be responsible for, so yeah I probably became a jerk. But this is serious, this is something I'm willing to work towards."

Just as the ride paused to take on more passengers, Canada looked back up in surprise. "... Huh?" There was just no way. "Don't lie to me, Gilbert. You're the same man who insisted constantly that we weren't dating just to avoid any little bit of responsibility you might have had, and you really think I'll just believe you when you say you're willing to be with me and raise a child? When I've already told you we aren't going to have any more sex?"

At this, Prussia looked at him. "This responsibility is different than the relationship responsibility. And I can get sex other places. It's not like I'll be living with you. I mean, I might move from Germany to your place, maybe. But I'm not lying!"

Matthew didn't want to hear that. He wanted to tell him that he couldn't, that it wasn't okay to just go off and sleep with whomever he wanted and thought it would be okay, but he sealed his lips instead. It wasn't fair to ask that of Gilbert. He just wished that it didn't hurt so much. "That's all well and good, but I can't just... just hand this life over to you all in good faith. Even if you do live with me, how can you expect to have healthy, well-rounded child when one parent is affectionate, and the other sees them as... as a matter of pride?"

"That's not..! God, that's not how I see it! Man, I said that _once_, and you totally misunderstood what I meant. Sure, yeah, it would be a pride thing, and maybe that's what it was at first, but that's not all it is. That's not the only reason I want to do this. There's also responsibility, and happiness, and I'll probably love it too. I mean, spend enough time with a small kid, and you kinda have to love them, don't you? That's the way it was when Ludwig was small. Too bad he grew up." Gilbert crossed his arms and once again looked out, trying very hard to ignore the happy annoying music they insisted on a few long moments Matthew was quiet. He looked around the little carriage, and down at his people, and over at Gilbert's shoe. Then,

"I understand that you feel obligated to do this. And maybe you are. But if you don't really, really want it- everything, the play-dates, the games, the school performances, sleepless nights and dirty diapers, the whole nine yards- I don't want you to even try."

Not looking at him, Gilbert practically deflated. "Fuck, I don't know. I've only known about this for less than a week! Give a guy some time, will you?" God, had it really only been a week? It seemed like so much longer.

"How long should I have to wait to see if you're up for this?" Matthew asked with a bite of venom. "Another week? A month? The whole pregnancy, maybe? Would you like to make the deadline the minute before I go into labor?"

"Maybe 'til I have a second to think about it." The ride already seemed to be getting to the end, thank god, but they were going to be pretty much the last to get off. "This whole week has been one thing after another, and it doesn't fucking help with your brother there all the time. I mean yeah, I'm sure I'll be fine with sleepless nights and all that shit, school plays. Not doing a shitty diaper. But the kid may not like me or something, and I can't promise things so far in the future. I don't give promises lightly."

Canada laced his fingers over his stomach and leaned back, gazing out the side. "I know you and Alfred don't get along, but... but if you end up not wanting this, I'll need him, Gilbert. He's already-" He paused, catching himself before he could spill America's secret. "... He's already proved that he's more than willing to be there for the baby. I had thought you wouldn't want any part of this, so I told him that I would need him." He knew that he could go it alone if he had to, but more than anything he wanted his child to feel happy and safe, and if Gilbert couldn't provide that, he knew that Alfred could.

Gilbert looked over to him, and a small smirk appeared on his face. "But you would rather me see you fall than America."

Matthew opened his mouth to reply and closed it when no words would come. This repeated for a long moment as colour races across his cheeks and he couldn't meet Gilbert's eyes. "It's not that I would rather... It's... I don't want anyone to see me fall. I would just rather it not be made such a fuss out of is all."

Gilbert didn't really say anything to that, just watched as more people got off the ride. "I... would like the chance to be a father," he said after a few seconds.

The quiet statement sent a jolt through Matthew. He felt his heart constrict and immediately an image flashed in his mind, something sweet and unreal with a white picket fence and a porch swing in autumn. Canada shook his head to expel the thought. His words were just as quiet, a great deal more timid. He felt exposed by his own honesty, but it needed to be said. "... I would like that, too. Very much."

The ride came to a stop and Gilbert lifted the bar. "Is your foot better? I bet you can go on the swing ride, as long as you're not afraid of heights."

Matthew ducked under the bar and hopped out. "Ah, I really would like to, but I think Alfred will have a heart attack if he doesn't know where I am for much longer."

"Alright. Well I don't have my phone, and I'm guessing you don't have yours either. So we could go back to the room. Maybe someone is there," Gilbert reasoned, heading towards the exit. He could tell that Matthew still had quite the limp, but at least he was walking.

They walked across the mall as quickly as they could, though Canada had to stop frequently to rest his ankle that swelled and pulsed with pain the more he exerted himself. Once they finally made it to the rooms Matthew tiredly slipped his hands into his pockets only to find, face pale and eyes wide, that there was no card key there. Frantically sticking his hands into the back pockets of his jeans he said, "Oh no..."

Gilbert could tell what the problem was, and when Canada looked to him he shrugged. "No one gave me a key."

Matthew's face fell. His ankle was killing him and he could have used some water and a rest. Canada banged on the door for a few moments just in case. "Al? Alfred? Arthur? Francis?" His voice started coming out as a whine and he turned hopeless eyes to Gilbert.

"Maybe we can ask at the front desk? I'm sure they'll let us in." Gilbert reasoned.

They didn't let them in. All because it was some blond bitch behind the counter that was more interested in her phone than working. Well, Gilbert also may have said all that to her face before she kicked them out.

The blond nation had to rest on a bench just outside the hotel, rubbing his calf distractedly. "Did they maybe say where they'd be going?" Matt asked quietly.

"Just to meet at the restaurant at five. Well, it's four now, so we could go early. You wouldn't have to walk if you're just sitting, and we could get a few drinks. Well, non-alcoholic for you." Prussia sat down beside him and held out his hands for his foot. "I'm going to re-wrap it, maybe that'll help."

Matthew allowed him to take his leg, his eyes wandering over Gilbert's upper body. He was tired and hurting and, as soon as Gilbert had mentioned dinner, he realized that he hadn't eaten well in days. He just wanted a warm bed. Or a shoulder to lean on. Or Kumajiro's warm, fluffy body. "I need a nap," he muttered.

Gilbert winced when he took the wrappings off to find that the ankle had become even more red and swollen. "I think you need to stay off this leg for a while. We can go to the restaurant and everything, but I think it would be best if tomorrow you stay off your feet as much as possible." He began wrapping it again, a little looser than before, to give room for the swelling.

Canada nodded absently, his eyelids drooping. He tried to bat Gilbert's hands away so he could put the shoes back on himself. "How far is the restaurant?"

"Not very. You can lean on me if you want." Hell, he could probably carry him if it came to that. Even pregnant, Matthew was probably much lighter than half the guys he once would have carried off the battle field.

While the offer was tempting, Canada declined. He had been through far worse and trekked through areas far more dangerous than a shopping mall. This was nothing, considering. "I'll be okay," he said and pushed himself up and smiled wanly. "Let's get there quick, though. This isn't exactly comfortable."

Five minutes later and they were being seated. Gilbert ordered some beer, and Matthew just got a pop. "You better drink that before the family gets here. I bet they wouldn't like you having all that sugar and caffeine."

Matthew slumped over the table and groaned. "It'll just be one more thing..." he mumbled with a bit of a pout. His stomach's groan almost drowned out his own as it began to eat itself. "I need food. Where's th' waitress?"

Gilbert called her over, and ordered some appetizer. "As fast as you can." He looked over to Matthew, eyebrow raised. "I didn't see you eat much at lunch. No wonder you're hungry. Are you having like, morning sickness or something?"

Matthew shook his head against the table, cheek smooshed against the wooden top. "I've been really hungry lately. I should have had something to eat besides that snow cone since lunch, but I was... otherwise occupied." He sat up slowly and took a swig of his ginger ale.

"Oh. You should have said something if you were that hungry. I didn't realize that your appetite changed that much." But it made sense, of course. He was eating for two now, even if one of those two was smaller than his fist.

Matt shrugged, one arm crossing over his rumbling stomach. "I wasn't even thinking about it," he said honestly. "Though... I guess I should have. I've got that responsibility now, you know?" He looked down, wondering idly if the fetus could get hungry, too. A little bemused smile curled on his lips. "Wouldn't it be funny if the baby could get a rumbling tummy, too?" he murmured without too much thought as to who he was asking.

Gilbert looked thoughtful. "Well, I would think that it would take all the nutrients from you before it ever got hungry. So I wouldn't worry about starving the baby much, just about starving yourself." The waitress brought over some bread, saying she thought it would help.

"Thank you!" Matthew exclaimed brightly, his smile wide and happy for a split second before he bit deep into a piece of dry bread, groaning in bliss. He was halfway through the basket before he realized that Gilbert was giving him a funny look and paused. "Wha'?"

"Nothing. Just thinking that you eat like your brother when you're hungry," Gilbert chuckled, and took a slice for himself.

Swallowing, Matthew took a sip of his drink. "I do not. Do I really?" He grabbed another piece, practically inhaling it.

"Yeah. Yeah, you do." Complete with practically talking with his mouth full. Luckily though, when Matthew was finished the bread, their appetizer came, so that he hardly had to pause in eating. "You do realize that there's still dinner, right?"

Feeling one million times better now that there was food in his belly, Canada chuckled, taking a big bite of a fried tomato. "Mmph. I'll eat that too."

Gilbert laughed, shaking his head. "You are gonna have one fat baby. Make sure to get big clothes." But he was pretty sure a chubby baby was a good thing, so that wasn't too bad.

"A little bit of chub is healthy for a baby," Matthew said with a sniff, easily gobbling up a pickle. It made him smile to think of a plump little thing running around with Kumajiro, and in his mind the image tripped and fell on its diaper-padded bottom. He laughed out loud at the thought.

"As long as the chub goes away after. A chubby five year old wouldn't be good. I bet that's what Alfred's babies would look like." Just a short fat little thing. Kids were meant to be smaller, because they ran around and everything.

Matthew froze for a moment before realizing that there was no way Prussia could have known Alfred's secret and relaxed, smiling crookedly. "As long as its cheeks stay chubby. If Francis has anything to say about it, my kid will never be scrawny."

Prussia nodded his head, and took some of the food. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'm surprised you were as skinny as you were when you were young." Gilbert remember back then, the first time he had met Matthew. England had been showing him off over in Europe.

Matthew's brow furrowed in confusion. "... What are you talking about? You and I didn't meet when I was young..."

"Yeah we did, you were about four feet tall, you had a white nightshirt... oh, ah now that I think about it, that may have been America." He scratched the back of his neck, knowing how much Matthew hated being mistaken for his brother.

Matthew's puzzled smile turned a bit dry at that. "That's definitely more likely," he said flatly, stabbing at a slice of zucchini. "I would have remembered you."

Gilbert smiled, looking out the large tinted window of a wall at the shoppers passing outside in the mall. "Would you? Back then, I'm sure you were meeting a lot of nations. Wouldn't blame you for forgetting me." Well, if that wasn't the first time he met Matthew, then when was? He found that he couldn't remember at all.

"I have a pretty good memory," he said quietly, watching the other. "I would have remembered your face. You're-" Striking. Unique. Beautiful. He took a quick sip of his ginger ale and pretended his red flush didn't exist. "... You're memorable." And he would know, being the least memorable nation on the planet.

That made the albino laugh. "Well, yeah, hard to forget someone with red eyes I guess." Then he looked thoughtful. "I wonder if the kid will have red eyes. Or maybe purple like yours. I just hope he isn't full albino like me; I can hardly go out in the sun before I get burnt!"

Matthew considered it for a moment. "I wonder... well, with our complexions, he or she will most likely be incredibly pale. As long as the baby isn't invisible, I'll be happy. Make sure you're around enough to at least teach them that."

"Yeah, I'll teach them how to be awesome." Gilbert couldn't help the grin on his face, now that Matthew had finally said that he could be around, and had to be around for at least that.

Matthew smiled back as he took a bite of bread smeared with zucchini mush and wrapped around a fried pickle. "I'd appreciate that. Confidence would do it some good."

Watching Matthew eat the strange food, a question popped into Gilbert's mind. "Hey, since you're eating such weird foods, does that mean that the baby will like weird shit too? I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it? If the... Mutti likes crazy food, the baby would like crazy food." He thought the German word was cute.

Matthew blinked. "Mutti...?"

"Excuse me," a voice piped in to Canada's left. He blinked and looked over to see a young man seated by himself at the table next to theirs. He had a sheepish but excited smile on his tan face. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, and I just thought... well, I'm a new father myself, and I thought I might add my unnecessary two cents."

"Oh, uh... please do," Matthew said politely, smiling in slight amusement.

"Well, when my wife was pregnant, her cravings were terrifying- I'm sure you know," he added conspiratorially, to which Canada could only nod.

"All too well."

"It only gets worse. But her thing was carrots. While the baby was in the womb, she ate so many of them I thought she would start to turn orange herself. She even chopped them into her breakfast cereal. Once my little girl was born, we'd already stocked up on as many brands of carrot puree we could find. But you know what?" He leaned forward, his grin bright and full of good humor. "She won't even try it. Her lips are sealed vaccuum-tight the second the stuff hits her spoon."

Gilbert laughed at that. "Well, I guess that answers the question then. Thanks dude. My... ah, friend is pretty nervous about having a kid. No matter how many people tell him otherwise."

Matthew sent him a bewildered frown but the gentleman only smiled good-naturedly. "Well, it is pretty tough. I mean, no one in their right minds would ever say that raising a kid is easy. But it's... Well, here, I'll show you." He rifled around in the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a thick wallet, opening it up and pulling out about half a dozen pictures, handing them over. He pointed to the smiling blond woman and a tiny, plump infant featured in all of them. "They're my reason for living," he said with a sappy grin. "That's my best friend and the little life we made together."

"They're beautiful," Matthew said, his breath catching at the sheer amount of affection bubbling over in the stranger's tone as they looked over all the tiny photos.

"Yeah, they are. And let me tell you something; I don't know much, and I don't claim to be an expert, but I do know that when that tiny little part of you comes into the world, you will never find anything more important. It's like a piece of your heart is just up and walking around. Painful and scary as all hell, but you will regret missing any minute of it."

Gilbert was quickly getting bored of the whole thing. He was happy that Matthew had someone to talk to, but really, he didn't need to know what that kid's first words were or how that guy felt about his baby. It was completely different with them anyway. For one, they were both men. For another, they weren't happily married.

The man laughed as they got to the last picture. "Oh, that was the first time she tried chocolate, at her first birthday. There was cake everywhere! Even on the helium balloons, so much that they couldn't barely keep floating."

Matthew laughed, shaking his head. "I can't imagine a little thing like that being so messy. She's so small!"

The man nodded and sighed affectionately. "She really is. She was born a month premature. Scared the life out of her mother and I. Medical advancement today is amazing, though, isn't it? She came out healthy as a horse, but itty bitty. We think it was all the carrots." He cupped his palms to demonstrate, his voice growing thick with emotion. "She fit right in my hands..."

To Matthew's surprise, he felt himself growing a little emotional, too. He could understand how that would affect a parent. The stranger shook his head and stood. "I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse me. I need to call my babies." He threw down a tip and gathered up the pictures, sniffling. "My home's in Manitoba, but I'm here on business. Even a weekend is too long to be away, you know? It was nice meeting you."

He stumbled off, putting his wallet back in his pocket as he pulled out his phone. Matthew watched him go with a distracted, thoughtful expression on his face.

Gilbert cleared his throat, fingers tapping lightly on the table. "Well, aren't your citizens nice? Talking to random people they don't know about kids." But he had a smirk on his face, knowing how much Matthew had enjoyed that.

Indeed, a pleased flush had spread over Matthew's cheeks. "Uhuh," he hummed, distracted. Would he have the same relationship with his child that that man did? Would his baby be as healthy and happy as the little chubby girl in those pictures had been? More than anything, he hoped so. Before he realized it, his right hand had slipped under the hem of his shirt and skimmed feather-light over his stomach.

Just then, England and America bustled into the restaurant. They both paused when they saw Gilbert and Matthew seated together, alone. Wasn't Francis supposed to be with them? But they still went to sit down beside them. Alfred sat right next to his brother, stealing some of the food. "Where's Francis? In the bathroom or something?"

Matthew jumped, eyes widening upon noticing his brother and England. "He... he didn't call you?" he asked cautiously.

"No, why, should he have?" Arthur asked, looking at the menu.

Just then, France came practically running in. As soon as he saw Matthew safe and sound, he breathed a sigh of relief, hand over his heart. "Oh Matthieu! _Mon dieu_!" After that, no one understood what he was saying besides Canada, because of the rapid French he was speaking, pulling the pregnant nation into a tight embrace.

Matthew tried to pacify him in his own French, explaining himself and apologizing profusely. "I'm sorry," he murmured in Francis' own language, pulling another chair over once he'd been released. It was a relief that no one else could speak French at the table, or Alfred and Arthur would be livid, and poor Gilbert would be put in an awkward position. "I thought you had gone to the coffee shop down the hall, and I got lost. But Gilbert found me."

Francis looked over to the albino, and slightly bowed his head. "_Merci_, Gilbert. You took care of him very well." He started apologizing to Matthew again, explaining that he had gone back in the baby store to get the cutest rabbit, and that he had asked them to call over the intercom but they said they only did that for little kids, it was ridiculous to call a full grown adult.

The younger nation shook his head. He agreed; it really was ridiculous to lose track of an adult that happened to be centuries old. "I knew you would worry. I'm sorry." He smiled shortly and pulled Francis down into a seat near him. In English, he said, "The food here is very good. We had appetizers while we waited, but I'm sure she'll come over soon to take your order."

After an hour, they were all finished eating. They stood up to leave, and Gilbert watched Matthew out of the corner of his eye, to see if his ankle was still hurting him. He was still walking with a limp, no way around that, but he didn't wince when he stood up or anything.

He was doing very well with disguising the sharp, heavy feeling in his ankle and kept his breathing steady as he worked hard to keep up with the other four. Slowly but surely, though, he was faltering, and while he did need to stay close enough to keep Alfred from wondering, if he was too hasty he just knew he'd make one wrong move and hurt himself even worse. With a bit of idle thought he decided that perhaps it was a good thing everyone looked over him easily. Maybe he'd get lucky and they wouldn't notice his off-kilter gate or the paleness of his face.

Gilbert gave a loud yawn, stretching his arms in the air. "Holy crap am I tired. You guys go ahead, I'm too tired to keep up." He slowed down his pace to match Matthew's so he wouldn't try to strain himself.

Alfred looked back and noticed that his brother was also walking slowly. Then he noticed something else. "Mattie, you're limping..." Something wasn't right. Canada and Gilbert being together, them not acting awkward around each other, Mattie limping... "Oh my god! Did you two have sex?"At that Matthew tripped and quickly grabbed onto Prussia, a yelp tearing from his throat as shocks of pain ripped through his ankle. "W-what? No!" he cried, his stomach churning from the pain. He felt all the colour drain from his face.

"Shit, sit down!" Gilbert grabbed onto him, moving him down to the floor. Damn, it looked like he had twisted it a bit more. "Are you alright?" The others were looking at them strangely, but he didn't give a fuck.

Matthew's lips pressed into a thin line and he closed his eyes, pressing his thumbs into the eyelids to focus on quelling the nauseous clenching in his stomach from the pain.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, "just... just gimme a minute."

"What's wrong, Matthew?" Arthur asked, crouching down beside the two. He directed the question at the young nation, but his eyes were on Gilbert.

The Prussian didn't say anything, but his hand was still at Matthew's back, steadying him. Alfred and Francis were crowded around now, all obviously worried for the pregnant nation.

They weren't the only ones. They had gained the attention of the people entering and leaving the hotel. He grit his teeth and grabbed Gilbert's shoulder. "We need to go in. Come on." He closed his mind to the sprain and focused on getting them out of the entryway instead. One of the hotel clerks had started toward them. "I'm _fine_!"

So Gilbert helped him up, and just for the sake of helping him, put his arm around Matthew's waist, helping him walk a few steps. But then America stepped up, arms crossed. "Thanks, but I think I can take him from here."

"Alfred, you son of a bitch," Matthew all but snarled, bursts of white erupting before his eyes from standing too quickly. "Get out of my way or so help me, I will never let you import my syrup again."

At the threat, Alfred stepped out of the way. Not that he thought he would go through with it, but because, if Matthew was threatening him, that must be serious. So Gilbert was the one who helped him to the elevator, and all the way to their rooms, the others trailing behind. "Who has a key?"

Francis stepped forward to unlock the door, then Prussia quickly took Matthew to the bed and took his shoe off.

Matt covered his mouth with a hand as Gilbert touched the bandage. His breath hitched and the spike of pain went straight up through his stomach. "I'm gonna be sick," he said thickly, wincing.

England grabbed a garbage can and brought it to him quickly, and Canada threw up in it, leaning over the bed. Gilbert unwrapped his ankle, and it looked even worse than before. "I told you you shouldn't be walking on it. We have to get you to a walk in clinic or something."

Once he saw the swollen ankle, Alfred grabbed Gilbert's shirt and pulled him up. "What the fuck did you do to him?"

Matthew whimpered when the hand was suddenly wrenched from his foot.

"Alfred Jones!" England laid his hand on America's strained bicep, his tone firm and offering no room for argument. "You are doing more harm than good. Your anger is clouding your judgment and you'll only end up hurting Matthew." He pried the American's hands from Gilbert's shirt. "We need to leave the room now. Gilbert and Francis will take care of him until you've calmed yourself."

"What? But it's his fault! He was with Matt, so he was supposed to be looking after him!" Alfred pointed an accusing finger to Gilbert.

Prussia curled his hands into fists at his sides. "You're blaming me? When all you guys are babying him so much he's too fucking worried to tell you he hurt himself? He wouldn't have been walking around if he didn't think that you would confine him to bed if you knew!"

"Gilbert, stop!" Canada cried, his voice wavering as he looked up from the garbage can. He was embarrassed and nauseous and all he wanted was to just curl up under the covers in his own bed and fall into a deep sleep until all the pain went away.

Arthur straightened, tugging on America's arm. "He's right. We're leaving. We'll just be in the other room."

The door closed behind them, and Francis sat on the edge of the bed, a calming hand rubbing between Canada's shoulder blades. "Matthieu... you know we wouldn't do that, don't you? We worry about you, yes, but if you are hurt, do not feel afraid to tell us."

Gilbert went to the door and slowly opened it. "I'm gonna go get some ice. But I still think you should see a doctor, especially after you twisted it just now."

Matthew leaned against France and closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. "I'm too tired," he said quietly, pathetically, exhaustion gripping him. "My ankle is killing me and my stomach hurts and I smell like vomit and Alfred's mad, but I don't want to go anywhere. Please. I just want to sleep."

France ran his fingers through hair so much like his own. "Sleep, _mon petit_, go to sleep. Gilbert will come back with the ice pack, and we can put it on your ankle. I'll wrap it so it is not too cold, _d'accord_?"

Matthew nodded before shaking his head. "I need to brush my teeth and... and change my shirt first. I can stay awake for that." The last thing he wanted was to move away from the comforting, familiar hand but he pushed himself up and began to unbutton his... fragrant shirt.

"Here, let me help you." Francis leaned over and helped take it off Matthew's thin shoulders. "And I shall get you're tooth brush and everything, you can just stay right there." The last thing they needed was for Canada to injure himself even more for the sake of clean teeth.

"Mouthwash too, please," he called after and rubbed at his eyes sleepily. Canada's stomach gave an unpleasant roll and he rubbed it for a moment, ducking his head and murmuring things he hoped beyond hope would calm the fuss within. He wondered to himself if stomachaches ever bothered the unborn child. What about illness? He couldn't go to a hospital and allow them to do anything with him to get him fixed, just in case it was bad for the baby. He would just have to wait it out.

Downstairs, Gilbert was wishing that when they had arrive yesterday, he actually had looked for the ice machine like he said he did. Finally, he found it out back, so he grabbed a bag and stuffed it full, then quickly went back to their room. Matthew was already curled up on the bed, and Francis was reading in a chair. Francis glanced up when Gilbert entered and let his eyes turn to Matthew. "Let's take care of it quickly," he said with a small smile. It was an awkward position for the boy to take; he was bundled up at the foot of the bed, curled and on his side while his leg jutted out over the edge for them to take care of. He had barely made it half a minute after spitting the green mouthwash out into the trash can before he had fallen dead asleep. He was still pale, but a bit of colour had come back to his face. Not enough to quell Francis' worry, but it would have to do.

Gilbert nodded and grabbed a towel from the bathroom. He wrapped the ice in it, then went back to Francis. "He doesn't look too good, does he? It must really hurt." he muttered, then put the ice pack as lightly as he could so as not to wake Matthew up.

"Mm, but at least he is finally in bed and resting." France brushed the hair out of Canada's face and sighed when it tensed as Gilbert began to wrap his ankle. "What happened?"

The albino wrapped the bandage around the ice and Matthew's ankle loosely, enough to keep the ice on, but loose enough for it to breath. "We went ice skating. Well, he went ice skating, I wouldn't call what I did skating. But some kid kind of ran into him I guess and Matt swerved to avoid him."

"Ah... I see." France waited until Prussia had finished before he gently bent Matthew's leg back onto the bed and covered it gingerly with the thick blanket. "But I did not mean just that. He said that after we had separated, you were the one to find him."

Gilbert went to sit down on the chair, wanting to stay here for a bit to make sure Matthew was going to be alright. "Yeah, he was on a bench, crying because he lost you. So I tried to make him feel better by going skating. Obviously that didn't work out too well."

Francis leaned back on his hands to regard the young nation. "I want to say something about how like a child that makes him sound, but I suppose that would be cruel. He did not want to disappoint me." France reached over and pulled the blanket higher on Canada's shoulders before looking over at his best friend directly. "I know that Alfred jumps to many conclusions, but you two did not...?"

"No. Matt made that clear from when I showed up a few days ago, there won't be anything like that." He didn't feel the need to mention that morning, because they were both asleep at the time and had no control over their actions.

The blond's eyebrows arched in bafflement. "None at all? How do you plan to manage that?" He assumed that Gilbert had decided to stay, after all.

Great, these questions again. "Well, it's not like he's the only one around, is it? Worse comes to worst, I can go get my rocks off whenever I'm not there. It's not the end of the world. Sure it would be nice if me and Matt could still fuck, but he doesn't want that and I'm not gonna pressure him."

"That's strangely noble of you." France leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. "So then, sir knight, did Matthew agree to let you stay?"

Gilbert really wasn't that comfortable talking about this shit when Canada was right there, asleep or not, but he also didn't want to go to the next room. "I don't really know, he kind of did I guess. I mean he said he wanted me to teach the kid to be more outgoing, so he wouldn't disappear."

"Matthieu won't- agh, Gilbert, you too?" He shook his head and sighed. "Mark my words, that child will be a beautiful girl, and both you and that testosterone-stimulated _Amerique_ will give her the worst of complexes. Regardless, that is not what I asked. Did he tell you that you could stay with him?" His eyes hardened in all seriousness. "If he did not, I would advise you make things perfectly clear. He does not need to cater to your misunderstandings along with Alfred's."

"Well I'm not gonna fucking ask him now am I?" Gilbert hissed, red eyes narrowing. "Why don't _you_ ask him, since you're always saying how sensitive you are. Besides, if he said I have to teach the kid something, then I would have to be around, wouldn't I?"

"For some of the time, of course," Francis said, unfazed by the dangerous glare. "But just because he agreed that you should be involved in the child's life, it isn't grounds for you to simply move in. It has only been a few days, and he is certainly in no position to make any rash decisions at the moment."

Gilbert sat back in the chair and crossed his legs. "Well I'm not moving in. I still live in Germany, and I'm still East Germany, no matter what people say."

Blue eyes widened in surprise. "You had no intention of living with Mathieu?"

"I never did. That would be too couply for two people who aren't supposed to be having sex." Gilbert lifted an eyebrow. "You thought I was gonna move in? I mean, I can visit often and for a long time, but I still plan to live with my brother."

France stroked his chin thoughtfully, eying Gilbert for a long moment. "I did think that that was your goal, yes," he answered honestly. "It would be the responsible thing to do, not that I am one to talk." He had thought that, what with Gilbert's heroic display when it came to Matthew's well-being earlier, the Prussian had already assumed his fate in taking care of him. "And when the child is born?"

Gilbert shrugged nonchalantly, making sure he whispered when he saw Matthew twitch in his sleep. "So what? Same deal. I don't really see what the problem is, with West's jet I can be at his house in a few hours. I wouldn't have to book a flight or anything; they can go whenever I need to. Like I said, I can spend a bunch of time in Canada."

"So you've said," Francis hummed, his fingers carding through Matthew's golden hair until he settled again. "But if you plan to spend as much time in Canada as you say, why don't you want to just... stay? Can you not see it: Matthieu's cute little mountain cabin, a little babe running around in the autumn leaves with the dog... er, bear. Delicious breakfasts made by the most beautiful boy across the ocean. I do not understand the lack of appeal in this."

"The lack of appeal is that the couple in that scenario sounds like an actual couple. Not fuck buddies turned parents that don't touch anymore." Gilbert stood up, deciding that Francis was doing a good enough job of making Matthew comfortable. "I'm going to bed. Do you want something before I leave?"

"Your commitment to my son would be nice," Francis said with a wry smile before shaking his head. "You'll have the bed to yourself tonight. I'm going to stay with Matthieu in case he needs anything. Tell Alfred he's sleeping like a baby; perhaps he will go easy on you."

Great, he had almost forgotten what was waiting him in the other room. Gilbert gave a bitter smile, and opened the door joining the two rooms. Luckily, the other two nations weren't doing it on the bed like he had half feared.

Arthur looked up from his book and lightly rested his hand on the chest of the nation with his head in England's lap. "How is he?" the Brit asked quietly as Gilbert shut the dividing door behind him.

"Sleeping. There's an ice pack on his ankle, so hopefully the swelling will go down by morning." Prussia quickly took off his clothes, leaving only his boxers, and put on some pajama pants. The sooner he could get to bed and asleep, the better.

Alfred began grumbling but Arthur tutted him and removed his glasses, waiting until Gilbert was in his respective bed before turning out the lamp. "Did he agree to any medical treatment?"

Fluffing his pillow to have something to do, Gilbert turned around and looked at them. "He didn't really say much of anything. Maybe he'll let us take him somewhere tomorrow, but I doubt he will wake up for a while." Considering how early they had both woken up.

"Mm. Perhaps. And I suppose the frog used some heartfelt excuse to sleep with him tonight." He patted America's shoulder and slid under the covers once the head was out of his lap. "Just as well. France may sleep soundly, but of all of us, he's the one to wake the easiest."

No one said anything else, even Alfred, who had obviously been told to be nice, and that he interpreted as not saying anything. Gilbert turned toward the window, glad to have the whole bed to himself.

* * *

><p>A couple of days later, nearing the end of the week when Canada would exile his houseguests, once his ankle had healed considerably with a lot of rest, ice and pain killers, Alfred wasted no time coaxing Matthew out to his truck in the wee hours of the morning. Most people assumed that America was the type to not wake up until noon, and on occasion when the previous nights were filled with video games or horror movies or England, that would be the case... somewhat. Matthew, however, knew his brother well enough to know that the superpower absolutely could not sleep past nine after the latest of nights, but when he fell asleep at a decent hour, Alfred would be up at the crack of dawn. America had once told him that it was a combination of not only his farmers, but also his misleadingly high population of workoholics and a habit he'd picked up and kept from New York. So it was no surprise to Matthew that morning, the sun had barely risen over the mountains when he was roused from sleep and half-carried into Alfred's white pickup, stuffed in a seat and buckled up tight.<p>

He must have fallen asleep along the way because after a bit the motion of the vehicle and the low tone of country music on the radio both stopped and he slowly opened his eyes to the familiar scene before him. "Geez, Al," he mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes under thin wire spectacles. "Did you suddenly get nostalgic or something?"

Alfred grinned at him, reached over and undid his seat belt. "I missed it here. We haven't been for so long." He got out of the truck and looked at the start of a hidden trail they had found hundreds of years ago. Of course, back then there hadn't been a road so close, so it had been harder to get to, but all the more fun to keep as a secret. "Come on. I know your ankle isn't bothering you anymore, so you can't complain about a bit of a hike. We used to have to walk ten times as far when they didn't have cars and roads!"

"I wasn't gonna complain," Canada replied with a yawn and slid out of his seat onto the firm soil below. He looked up the path and smiled a little to himself. "I just can't imagine why you think it's necessary to do this at the asscrack of dawn."

Grabbing the backpack he had filled before waking his brother, America gave a grin. "Well, if I waited any later it would have been wasting this beautiful day! Plus, the others might have woken up and wanted to come, and this is our place." He wondered if he should even bother locking the truck up. It was Canada after all! And they were in the middle of nowhere. But his American paranoia made him press the lock button regardless.

Canada patted his taut stomach. "You sure? I think this might be sharing it, even in the loosest sense." Now that he thought about it, their little place would be perfect to take a child: teaching them how to catch little minnows, how to swim in the shallow, clear creek, how to build a fire and enjoy nature at its most beautiful... It was tempting. So tempting. He hoped Alfred wouldn't mind.

He obviously didn't, as his grin grew wider. "Your baby will never be intruding." They started on the trail, and Alfred stopped at the tree that they had carved their names in all those years ago. Of course, that part wasn't visible anymore, and Alfred wasn't even sure if it was the same tree, but it felt nice to think that is was, and that it hadn't been chopped down yet.

Matthew flushed and followed his train of thought, stepping closer to his brother. "Other side," he said softly. They took a peek at the other side and, as the tree had grown considerably in three hundred years, they had to look up and up to see the thin, messy scratches and stripped bark that had been carved out so long ago. "You did permanent damage to my tree," he mused.

"Yeah, well if you cut it down you would have sold it to me anyway." Alfred chipped off some bark idly, and then continued on. "I just wanted to come here before you kick me out. It's been so long! Plus, I thought it would be a good time. Soon you won't be able to make the trip very well. I mean you're already starting to show. Not that you can tell with your shirt on, though."

"Good thing I'm not in the habit of stripping willy-nilly, huh?" Canada chuckled. The hike continued for a little less than a half hour, and Matthew was grateful for the exercise. It was a beautiful bright, crisp morning and the healthy nip felt good on Matthew's face. After a while he caught the sound of the brook, and before America could react he tagged his brother on the arm and jogged ahead. "I'll beat you there!"

"Will not!" Alfred yelled, laughing, as he ran along behind him. He let Matthew win, of course. It was the heroic thing to do.

Sure enough Canada made it to the little pebbled clearing by the stream first and turned, smiling broadly as the taller of the two finally caught up. "Al, how are you so slow when you're obviously in shape?" he chuckled a little breathlessly. It had been far too long since he'd last exerted himself. He'd have to work on that.

Alfred pouted and crossed his arms. "It wasn't fair, you had a head start!" But he still picked up a flat rock and skipped it over the water. It didn't go very far, since it was running water, but he still got two skips in.

Seating himself on a large rock Matthew watched his brother for a few long, quiet moments. Then, "I seriously hope that whatever's in that bag includes breakfast. You're not allowed to bring me out in the middle of no where to starve my baby."

"Don't worry, I brought a bunch of shit. Lunch too. But not dinner, so we should head back before then. I left Francis a note letting him know." Alfred dug in the bag and pulled out two bagels and handed one to Matthew.

"Good job on the forethought," Matthew said idly, thoroughly demolishing half of the bagel before Alfred could procure a small tub of cream cheese. He swiped a finger through it and smeared it on his bagel. "So... why are we out here?" he asked casually, taking a big bite.

America shrugged and inhaled his own bagel. "Just wanted out of the house. It was nice when it was just you and me. And the baby, of course. Now your house is so full! And then you're kicking us all out, which is totally not cool, so I won't get anymore time with you."

"You can come visit me when you're not busy," Canada said, sucking the cream cheese off his fingers. "But not long enough to make the work pile up. I really do enjoy spending time with you, though." His ears turned a little pink. "And... I really appreciate you just, uh... being there. I don't know what I would have done without you."

He threw an arm around his brother, pulling him close. "I'll always be there for you. Even when you're all lonely and sad, and you think you want your baby-daddy. But you don't. He's still a douche, so whenever you feel like you want him back in your life, just call me and I'll put you straight."

Matt rolled his eyes and lightly shoved his brother. "That's not fair of you, Al. It might be if he wasn't planning on getting involved, but..." He glanced down at the pebbles by his shoes. "But it wasn't his fault," he continued quietly, "and even though I told him that I could do this on my own, he still insisted that he not be excluded from the baby's life. That's not something a bad guy would do."

Unimpressed that the conversation wasn't going the way he wanted it to, America dropped his arm, still staying close to Matthew. "Well, no, he's not really a bad guy. But he couldn't take care of a kid. The guy's a flake! You're not actually thinking of letting him near your baby, are you?"

With a shrug Canada turned his gaze toward the calm, gurgling stream. "I wasn't planning on it at first. I didn't think he'd ever know. I checked online and unless I had the gene and passed it on along with Gilbert's, there's no way his albinism would be passed on, so he'd be none the wiser. But then he showed up of his own accord and made it very clear that he wanted to be part of our child's life." He looked toward his brother, hoping beyond hope that he would understand. "It's not fair to deny him the right to know the life he helped create." Remembering Alfred's predicament, he quickly added, "Especially since he knows about it. It would just be cruel to let him know that he had a child halfway around the world that he wants to know and isn't allowed to."

Alfred took the trap door out of the guilt trip and agreed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But, he doesn't have to help raise it. I mean, sure, let him meet the kid, when he's old enough to play ball, Prussia can play some catch with him. But wouldn't it be better if only you raised the baby? With help from me of course, but you wouldn't want to have to share your baby, right?"

"But that's the thing," Matt said, his expression earnest. "I can't... I don't know if I can do it on my own, Al. You saw what happened at Edmonton. I can barely take care of myself anymore. It makes me nervous to live so far away from everyone. Kumashira would be helpful of course, but... but it's not just safety. I take lots of business trips and we have world meetings and there are days when I won't sleep for half a week because I'm so busy. A child needs a healthy, attentive environment, and... and Prussia isn't Prussia anymore. He can provide that when neither you nor I can. You know?"

"Yeah, he can, but it doesn't mean he will. Saying it is one thing, but do you think he'll actually stay with you when he has to change a poopy diaper? How about the terrible twos? The only thing he has ever stuck with was war."

Canada's face fell as he could understand the logic of America's words, and then determination lit back in his eyes when he remembered how dead-set his brother was against Prussia anyway. "But I already went through that with him and he said he wanted to stay." He decided not to say anything about the diaper refusal, though. He would have to talk to the albino about that. "I want to give him a chance to prove himself. I'd really like your support in this, Al."

Dammit, Matthew was giving him that_ look_ again, the look that America just couldn't say no to, with his big large violet eyes shaded by long eyelashes. It just wasn't fair; he had the same face and there was no way he could pull off a face like that! "Fine. If he sticks around, and isn't a total ass, I guess I can accept him."

Expression instanatly brigher, Matthew leaned against his brother and grinned. "Thanks, Al. You're welcome over any time you don't have to work." In all good-natured spirit he snatched the apple from Alfred's hand right before he bit into it and sank his teeth deep in the red skin. "So I noticed you and Arthur are getting along pretty well. Like, really well."

Alfred shrugged and stole back the apple. "We've always have had a lot of sex. Nothing new." He still wasn't going to tell England about his kids, anyway. He felt rather possessive of them, didn't want any of the fathers to intrude. After all, Arthur wasn't the only one who had fathered one of his states. He had just fathered the most. And he hadn't even been pregnant with all of them. But it would just be weird to explain that he kinda sorta impregnated his 'mother' before she began to die...

Canada recognized the determined tightness in his jaw and lunged for the apple, briefly wrestling with Alfred until they fell off the rock with a couple of near-identical squawks. Matt laughed and tried to pry the apple from his brother's hand. Once he claimed a triumphant victory Canada sat on Alfred's stomach, facing the creek. "You should bring your kids up here," he said around a bite of apple.

"Naw, they're all too old to be goofing off at a creek. When they were kids they would have liked it." Maine still looked young, like a little girl, but she was one of the oldest.

"You say that, but what exactly do you think we're doing right now?" he laughed, reaching down to ruffle Alfred's hair.

"This is different. This is our place. For them, it would just be a nice place to look at. They don't have the memories we have, of hiding from England, of trying to fish and not catching anything." Then Alfred rolled over, pushing Matt off him.

Flailing as he fell, Matt made a noise of displeasure once his butt landed on the pebbles. "But neither will my baby," he pointed out, remembering in a bit of a fuzzy haze what Alfred had recalled.

Alfred hummed, then smiled. "But if we bring him here young, he can make his own memories! It'll be fun, just you wait and see. He'll love this place." America rubbed Matthew's belly, grinning as he felt the small bump. He kind of missed the feeling of having his own stomach so full of life, but he pushed that thought away. No point dwelling on the past.

"I need to start thinking of names. It makes me feel weird to think of the baby as a generic term."

Alfred picked up a few leaves, making sure they were perfect. "Yeah. How about Peter? Or Bruce? Or Clark..." His super heroes had awesome names, so it would be cool to name the kid after one.

"Well," Matthew said dryly, "I can't help but think that calling the baby Bruce is a little presumptuous when I don't even know if the baby has the parts to be a proper Bruce."

He just shrugged, and picked up another flat rock to skip. "Well, it'll probably be a boy. Most of our kind are male. I only had two girls out of my seven." The cutest being Maine. She would always be his little girl.

Knowing he wouldn't win the argument until he knew for sure which gender the child would be, he sighed. "Well... I was thinking of something more gender neutral. Just a little nickname. Not anything definite... even just a pet name will do." Canada picked up a pebble and tossed it into the water, watching tiny fish scatter.

"What, like peanut?" Alfred had called California 'Apple' for the longest time, because for that pregnancy he had craved apples almost every day.

"Yeah, like that. Only not that." Matt pulled Alfred's bag close and started digging through it. "It makes all of this more real... more human, don't you think?" he mused. Though he knew this would be almost a private thing with Alfred in the beginning, he hoped that perhaps it would have that effect on a certain detached albino.

Alfred hummed his agreement, and reached over to the bag, grabbing a water bottle from one of the side pockets. "Yeah, it would. But with things like that, it's not so much _thinking_ of a nickname; they just happen."

"Hmm." Looking down he touched his belly. "Just happen? Like... like bursts of mushy thought?" Matthew glanced up from the bag of treats. "Like... sugarbuns?"

America laughed at that. "No, I mean, one day you joke that the baby is like a muffin, and then you just keep calling it muffin." At least that was how it happened with Apple.

"Have we joked about anything like that?" Canada wondered idly, taking a bottle of water for himself. "All that comes to mind is how often we all argue about the baby's gender, and I think 'Androgyny' would be a bit unkind."

Alfred agreed, then opened the bag and grabbed some of the food he had brought for a picnic. "Well, if you're really determined to get a nickname, then just make one up. I'm just saying that if you just let things be, it'll happen."

"Then I'll just let it be for the moment." Matt watched him go through all the food, wondering to himself if the bagel had just been a prelude to something greater. Remembering that it was America he was sitting with, of course that would be the case. A little smile curled onto his face. "You know... I think the little thing is already proving to be kind, in an offhanded sort of way. They already keep me up late. I think they're getting me used to sleepless nights."

"Yeah, you bet! Man, the first few months are the worst. Take a nap whenever you can, because it doesn't happen often." But then he realized that he was just giving him more reason to want Gilbert there with him.

"I plan to. I love naps. I don't want it to get in the way of work." It had plagued his thoughts quite often lately, how he was going to be able to balance the pressures of being a nation, taking care of the baby and getting enough sleep to function properly. Thinking about it too much overwhelmed him. He really didn't know how he was going to deal with it when Alfred left. The thought made him scoot closer to his brother ever so slightly.

America smiled at him and patted him on the back. "I'll just be a call away."

Matthew's head fell onto his shoulder, blond waves falling over a muscled blade. "I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

><p>After two days spent in relative comfort, Matthew awoke in the late morning to a knock on his door. He yawned and sat up, slowly getting out of bed and opening the door to Francis decked out in curiously swanky clothes. "You're awfully dressed up for this early in the morning," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.<p>

"I had to take the early flight out for a meeting with my boss." Francis' tone was low and apologetic. It was then that Canada remembered what day it was and the order he had decreed a week prior. "I made you many fine dishes and stored them in the freezer," he said quickly before pulling up the sleeve of his sportcoat to check the watch on his wrist. "They should last you at least a week, my dear." With that he leaned over and kissed both of Matthew's cheeks, pulling back with a smile. "Be a good boy. I will try to finish everything quickly and return sometime within a month."

"Ah... well... I'll walk you to the door." Matthew scrambled to pull a shirt over his bare back and followed Francis down the stairs.

At the bottom, Arthur was picking up his things that had scattered around the house. He looked up and gave a smile to Matthew. "Don't worry, I will also make sure that Alfred gets his things together. Wouldn't want him leaving things here so that he has a excuse to keep coming back."

Matthew laughed softly and nodded, returning Francis' hug goodbye and jumped when he felt a hand creep down his backside. "F-Francis!" He yelped when a shoe flew past his face and hit Francis square in the forehead.

"Let him go, you damnable wino!"

Gilbert walked into the kitchen, scratching his head and grabbing a piece of bread. Then he looked around, noticing that France had his bags with him. Oh shit, it was that day... "Oh, right. Uh, guess I'll be seeing you, Francis."

France gave Matthew one last squeeze and eyed Gilbert a little oddly. "Indeed. Until next time, then." He rubbed his forehead and picked up his large bag before heading out the door to a fancy-looking car.

Arthur huffed as the sleek black Mercedes disappeared down the hill. "I'm sorry, Matthew. I'm afraid he'll never learn to control himself."

England was the next to leave. He stayed for lunch and then got into a taxi. Alfred tried to stay a bit longer, but he got a call from his boss and had to say goodbye. Soon, only Gilbert was left, as he had just called the jet that morning to come pick him up, unbeknownst to the blond in the living room.

Matthew waved through the window as Alfred left in his pickup, smiling quietly to himself at the pout on Alfred's face. He sighed shortly after and sunk down onto the couch, rubbing the back of his neck. His house was quiet now. Very quiet. It was awfully lonely after being so full of life for a considerable amount of time. Before his mood could sink too far Canada jumped up, shuffling around to find the one person left. Even though he was perhaps the only one of the four Matthew wasn't on the best terms with, he had still decided to stay. It was a comforting feeling, not to be alone.

"Gil?" he called at the top of the stairs once he'd searched through the empty ground floor.

"Yeah?" Gilbert called from his room. He didn't have much, since he had to buy all his clothes, so he figured he could just put them in a plastic bag, so he had them all on his bed and was about to ask for one.

Matthew peeked through Gilbert's bedroom door to find him standing in front of the open closet doors. For a brief moment he wondered why, seeing as the albino was already dressed. But there was no time for that; he needed to think of a reason for coming to see him, something that wasn't as pathetic as the truth. That he just didn't want to be alone. "Um, I was just wondering... would you like to go into town with me? The milk's almost gone, so it would probably be best to take care of that now, eh?"

"Oh, um sure, if we go now I guess. The plane will be here at nine, but it'll only take me a minute to pack." He went to the door and waited for Matthew to lead the way.

But Matthew was rooted to the floor, his eyes wide and his heart paused. "Plane...?" he said, voice so quiet even he was having difficulty hearing it. He was confused. Wasn't Gilbert going to stay? Hadn't that been the plan? Wasn't that the point of the entire discussion on the Ferris wheel, the bitter words on the ice rink, the reason he had been so kind that day?

Gilbert lifted an eyebrow in confusion. "Yeah, you didn't expect me to walk home, did you?" After all, it was Matthew's order. He should be getting back to Germany anyway. He had to feed Gilbird, he had to update his journal, especially since so much awesome, and not so awesome stuff had happened that week.

Matthew swallowed and looked down the hall. "I just thought that..." Apparently he had been very mistaken about everything. He'd jumped to conclusions again. How could he have been such an idiot? Alfred had warned him and he hadn't listened. This was his own fault. Quickly he turned back to Gilbert and smiled as best he could. "Nothing. But now that I think about it, there probably won't be enough time for you to come to town with me and make it back in time for your flight, so I'm just gonna go, yeah? Don't worry about locking the door or anything, because, um, I-I'll just leave Kuma in charge." He shuffled past Prussia briskly, feeling the too-telling heat that always came with shame rise up into his cheeks. "Have a safe flight."

"Oh. Alright. Well, I guess I'll just... stay here then. Until I have to go. And I'll call a cab, so I'll probably see you." He awkwardly held his hand out for a shake. It was even more awkward, because all the other times he had left this house, it had been a much more personal way of saying goodbye.

Canada knew he must have had the oddest expression on his face and quickly took Gilbert's hand, grasping it before letting go a short moment later. In that short contact he felt more alone than he thought possible and just nodded numbly before he scurried off. Canada felt sick knowing that he would be returning to an empty house, but he knew that it would have been far worse to try to keep up the strained, fake pleasantries while he waited to be left alone yet again.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Prussia opened up the door to the house. Three large dogs ran up to him, tails wagging, recognizing him easily. A good thing, because if they didn't they would probably attack him. So after a minute petting them, he dropped his bag and got something from the fridge. "Hey West! I'm home!" Next he went to his room, opened the door, and stopped.<p>

"West! Where the hell is all my stuff!"

Down the hall Ludwig poked his head out of the bedroom, blinking. "Brother...? Why are you here? Where's Canada?"

"North America. Why is my room empty?" Everything was gone from his room, besides the bed, which was made with neat hospital corners, so he knew that his brother was behind it. "I hate you cleaning my room on any old day, but this is crazy!"

Germany left his room and smoothed his hair back. His brows were bowed together in confusion. "I don't understand. I had them packed and shipped over to Canada's house because you said that you were going to him."

Gilbert's red eyes widened. "You did _what_? I said I was staying there for a while! As in a week or two! Not forever!" He ran his fingers through his hair, walking into his empty room. Oh god, everything was gone!

Standing in the doorway, Ludwig crossed his bare arms over his chest and frowned. "What are you talking about? Of course you're staying with him. He's carrying your child." His tone was heavy and firm, carrying an ironclad assuredness that spoke volumes of his opinion on the matter.

"_Mein Gott,_ why does everyone say that! I can visit tons and still be a father! You seriously sent everything to Canada? Didn't you would think that if I was moving there I would have come and gotten my shit?" What would Matthew think when he suddenly got tons of boxes from Germany? This was so embarrassing!

"Of course not," Germany replied easily, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. "Ever since you dissolved, you've shirked any and all responsibilities. You would probably just buy new things instead of going to the trouble of coming to get them." He took in his brother's frustrated expression and after a moment his eyes narrowed. "Brother. You cannot honestly be thinking of abandoning the responsibility of providing for your own child."

Gilbert slumped against the wall, only starting to calm down. "I would have been there for him and shit! I just didn't want to move away! I'm still part of this country. You made sure of that so I wouldn't die! You can't expect me to just leave my people!"

"_My_ people," Germany corrected brusquely. "Your people remain in our history, brother. Nobody expects you to become a part of Canada, but you are a father now. You have a great responsibility to something very real and tangible- what you are holding onto is a memory."

"Fuck you and your history!" Gilbert snarled. "Sure, Prussia may be gone, but I'm East Germany now, right? They are the descendants of my people! Sure, I don't go to war like I used to, and I don't do paperwork like you do, but I am still a part of this land! Hell knows enough of my blood has gone into it to make me a part of it!"

Feeling the tone of his brother's voice resonate through his bones Germany pushed himself away from the wall and stood at his full height. "That will never change," he said with a calm fierceness. "How little faith do you have in yourself that would make you believe that you will lose your identity if you leave my house? You will not disappear, Brother. But you have become twisted in your bitterness, and you have this entire matter backwards. Your priorities do not lie within this nation as you would believe. They belong to the child that you, in your frivolity, helped to create. You've become lazy and childish. Leaving this house and owning up to your responsibilities will do you a world of good."

Gilbert turned away angrily, pacing his empty room. "I'm not being lazy! Being lazy would be pretending like it never happened. I want to take care of that kid! But I don't want to stop living here!" Then he turned around, red eyes seeking his brother. "You just want to get rid of me, don't you! You're sick of me, thought this would be a good time to get me out of the house and out of your perfect fucking hair!"

Ludwig heaved a deep sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Please feel free to wallow in your self-pity on the plane ride back," he said tiredly. "Gilbert. You're my brother and I love you. But I know that given an inch, you will take a continent. I won't allow you the leeway to make decisions like when you will choose to take care of your own flesh and blood at your own whim." He looked up tiredly. "You have spoken frequently of your martyrdom here, but have you even considered Canada's feelings?"

"He doesn't want me there. At first he didn't even want me to see the kid! He would rather have that dick America be the father. And he told me I had to leave at the end of the week, so I left." Sure he had said the thing about teaching the kid confidence, but that could just be when he came to visit.

"Surely it attests to your reputation if he would rather America help raise the child, of all people, than you," Gernany replied wryly. "And is America still there with him now?"

Gilbert shook his head, happy in that at least. "Matt sent us all home. And fuck you, I would be way more awesome as a father than that dickhead would!"

"So what you're telling me," Germany said, very obviously reaching the end of his patience, "is that you left the man you impregnated alone to take care of himself for an undisclosed amount of time in the Canadian wilderness... and you're okay with that? Because he _told you so_?" Ludwig resisted the urge to punch his brother. "You've picked a fine time to start listening to other people's requests."

The Prussian gaped like a fish for a few seconds, before regaining his composure and crossing his arms across his chest. "It's not like he's in the middle of a forest. Two minute drive down the hill and you're in a town, with a doctor and everything. And yeah, he told me to leave, so I left. What was I supposed to do, chain myself to the bed?"

"Whatever it takes, you spoiled old man." Germany stepped out into the hallway and his voice was sharp. "You need to go, Brother. Your bird is down in the living room. I was going to send him later today, but it seems that you coming was good for at least that."

"What? You're... you're kicking me out? Where the hell am I supposed to go! I just told you that Matt sent me home! And you're kicking Gilbird out too? That's cold!"

But Germany was already pushing him toward the door, plucking the small wire cage from the table in the entryway and planting it in his brother's arms. "You're going to go back and stay with your child. It's raining, so you'll want an umbrella while you walk to the airstrip."

The little yellow bird chirped unhappily when the first few drops of rain fell on him, so Gilbert took off his jacket and put it over the cage. "You can't do this to your own brother! Ludwig! West, come on!" But the door closed, and he heard the click of the lock. Damn, it really was raining hard. He picked up the umbrella that Germany had thrown out and opened it up. He lingered on the step for a few minutes, but the hard rain won out, so he made the fairly short walk to the airstrip. Luckily, the plane from before was still there, along with the pilot, and he managed to convince him to fly back that night.

Gilbert arrived in Canada at about two in the morning. It was raining there too. Which is how he found himself on Matthew's doorstep, at two o'clock in the morning, sopping wet with a bird in a cage.

He tried the doorknob to see if it was left unlocked and sure enough, it swung right open. Stepping inside and out of the rain Gilbert closed the door behind him and locked it. He was a little surprised to see a lamp on in the living room and his eyes widened when another sight caught his eye. Matthew was curled on the couch, half covered by a quilt with a wide awake and lightly growling white bear in his arms. Canada's face was red and his eyes were swollen, though only half of his face was visible, the other half submerged in soft white fur. He drew in a shuddering breath and sighed, visibly tightening his hold on the alert bear.

He was jolted by the sudden loud squawking of Gilbird as he was placed on the ground. Prussia winced at the loud noise, and at Matthew suddenly looking up and seeing him. "Uh, hey. The door was open, and it was raining, and I didn't think you'd be awake, so I kinda just let myself in."

Matthew didn't react for a long moment, simply watching Gilbert with wide eyes and a blank expression. His arms slackened and Kumajiro slid onto the floor, approaching the intruder slowly. Only then did Canada make any noise. "W-what are you doing here?" he asked.

Gilbert bit the inside of his cheek nervously. "Ah, well, you see. West got my message that I would be here for a while, and he thought that meant that I would be moving here, so he packed up all my shit and sent it here, so that'll probably get here soon, and then he kicked me out. I know you sent everyone home, but... Well, I can't really stay there anymore." He finished his explanation, then looked at Matthew. "Were... you crying?"

"Wha- n-no!" Canada touched his cheek as though he were afraid that some moisture remained. He averted his eyes and fiddled with the blanket in his lap. "That's fine. You can stay." He looked up with a smile and a forced laugh. "To be honest, that's kind of what I thought you had planned to do in the first place, haha..."

Gilbert took his jacket off of the cage and hung it up to dry. "What are you talking about? You told everyone to leave, remember?" He hoped his stuff would arrive the next day, so that he would have things to wear.

Matthew fumbled around the coffee table for his glasses and put them on, standing and taking the jacket from him to hang in the laundry room. "I meant the others," he murmured, curiously unable to meet Prussia's eyes, "because they had work to do. But it's okay; it was just a misunderstanding."

"Oh." Prussia looked around the room awkwardly. Well, that would explain that morning. "But you're alright with this? And you're alright just in general? Because you look like you're sick." Well, he looked like he had been crying, but Matthew had already denied that.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, looking down at the two animals staring silently at each other through the cage. Then slowly he looked up, a smile slow in forming on his face. "I'm feeling much better, in fact."

* * *

><p>Gilbert went to sleep in the same room as before, and luckily the next day, large boxes started showing up, each one labeled with exactly what was inside. As soon as he saw the one marked 'Questionable' he took it and hid it in his room, not really wanting Matthew to see what Germany would consider <em>questionable<em>.

There weren't too many, but Matthew insisted on at least carrying half, though it was a curious sight to see Gilbert suddenly sprint into the guest room before he was even halfway up the stairs. He dropped the last box on a stack of others and sighed, swiping a lock of hair from out of his eyes. Kumajiro followed slowly and raised to his hind legs in front of Gilbird's cage, just staring. "I think my bear might have designs on your bird," Matthew chuckled, leaning over to lock eyes with the bird above Kumajiro.

"He better not. Gilbird goes where I go, and no bear is gonna ruin that." Seeing the white beast eyeing up his bird, Prussia picked up the cage and placed it delicately on top of his dresser. Poor thing probably hadn't been out of his cage in forever, since Ludwig hated having him flying around the house. But he wasn't about to let him out here either, not with the polar bear.

Matthew smiled and shook his head, bending over and hefting the bear up. "You hear that, Kuma? He says you're not allowed to do whatever it is you're probably thinking of doing."

"Who?"

"Gilbert."

Soon, the last box was in his room. He unpacked his clothes, but figured he could do the rest later. Gilbert checked his watch and decided it was time for some lunch. "What do you want to eat? And if I'm cooking, keep in mind that the only thing I know how to make is eggs."

As Kumajiro made himself comfortable over Matthew's shoulder, the Canadian waved Gilbert off. "I was planning on just heating up one of Francis' meals. He said he left enough to last me a week, but from what I could tell, there's enough stuffed in my freezer for a month at least." Canada rolled his eyes. "Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I'm suddenly a bottomless pit."

"But it doesn't mean that I'm not. Come on, let's see what Frenchie left us. Well, left you, I guess." Gilbert opened up the fridge, and sure enough it was stuffed with Tupperware containers. "You're not having weird cravings right now, are you? Don't want to cover the pie in here with ketchup or anything?"

Matthew actually turned a little green at that. "Ugh. I think I'll pass." He grabbed one long container out and opened it up, eying the thick creamy soup filled with what seemed to be zucchini and potatoes. "This looks good. Want me to heat it up?"

Gilbert nodded, and watched as Matthew got out a pot and put it on the stove. He sat down at the table, watching him stir. "So, I guess West wants me to stay here. Like, at least 'til the kid's grown up. At least that's what I think he wants... he didn't really specify much before he kicked me out of the house."

Canada's shoulders lifted. "You're welcome to stay," he said after a moment. "I'll need your help once the baby is born. I didn't..." He hadn't wanted to vocalize it before, strongly against trying to guilt Prussia into staying . "Um, anyway, it would be useful to have someone here to watch Pronto while I'm away."

"Pronto?" Gilbert asked with an eyebrow raised. But now that he thought about it, it would be much easier to raise the baby if they were both there. Sometimes Matthew would have to be away at meetings; that was unavoidable.

A blush rose up on Matthew's cheeks and he cleared his throat. He hadn't meant to let that slip. "Uh... yeah. Al and I were talking about nicknames for the baby and that was, uh... what came up. Because every time there's a need involving the baby, it's always kinda urgent. Hence... Pronto."

He nodded slowly, a smile going on his lips. "Well, as long as that's not what you're actually gonna name the kid. Because that would be a pretty unawesome name." He sat down at the table and looked up at Matthew. "But a pretty awesome nickname."

Hoping desperately that Prussia couldn't see his ears burning red, he couldn't help but smile. "I thought so, too. It was, um..." He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "It was Alfred's idea."

That made it less awesome, but Gilbert didn't say anything. "Well. As long as you like it." In a few minutes the soup was heated up, and they both sat down with bowls. "So, you're sure that you want me around, right? And if you suddenly get so fed up with me that you want me out of the house, you'll have to call my brother and explain it to him so that he'll let me back into the house."

Matthew looked up from his soup with an odd expression on his face. His spoon lowered. "Do you not want to be here?"

Gilbert shrugged and swallowed his soup. "Well, yes and no. I want to be here for the kid and to help you, but I'll still miss my land, you know? Even if I'm... not a part of it anymore." He glared at his spoon, angrily stirring his meal.

Matthew watched him with a curious, sad eye. "I know what you mean," he said softly, stroking Kumajiro's head when the bear placed it in his lap. "It can't be easy to leave everything that makes you who you are behind. You know, I... I'm not expecting you to."

At that Gilbert looked up, a strange expression on his face. "Why not? I'm not Prussia anymore. I'm not anything. If you think about it, I'm the perfect father for this kid, because I have nowhere else to be." Which still pissed him off, but it would be best for the baby. His brother was right (though he would never admit it out loud): he wasn't just thinking about himself anymore.

Matt shrugged, his eyes focused very directly onto his bowl of soup. "But it's not good for anyone if you come to think of this as a trap. It's not a subtle thing when you long to be in a place where you are not." He stirred the creamy dish idly. "And you're still Prussia. You may not have a government or a border, but a map doesn't make you _you_."

And that seemed to be what Gilbert had to hear. Yeah, just because he was away from the land he used to be, didn't mean he would fade away or become any less himself. He was fucking awesome Prussia, after all! He smiled, twirling his spoon. "You're right. But you're also wrong. Nothing is ever perfect, so yeah, I may miss it over there, but I can always visit. Doesn't mean I won't like it here."

Sneaking a glance up Matthew chanced a smile. "Well, I hope so. Canada is pretty awesome."

"Yup, Canada is pretty damn awesome," Gilbert agreed, choosing not to specify if he meant the land or the representation.

Abruptly turning red, Matthew ducked his head and took a long sip of his water through a straw. "S-so, um..." he stammered, "is there anything I need to know about your living habits o-or something?"

"Hmm... well, I like sleeping in. And, I don't think the no alcohol rule is going to be a rule anymore, just make sure not to drink it. Oh, and I usually sleep naked, so watch out for that." But those were the only things he could think of.

Canada paled a little at the mention of alcohol. "For the love of the motherland," he muttered, "if you're gonna have alcohol in my house, you've gotta be prepared to make it disappear at the drop of a hat. I never know when the mommy squad is going to show up."

Gilbert laughed, knowing how true that was. "I'll keep it in my room, under a pile of dirty underwear. No one will go in there." Well, if Francis or England bitched at him about it, he could just call them hypocrites, because they both brought booze into the house.

"Unpleasant imagery, but it's a start." Matt propped his chin in his palm thoughtfully. "What do you think you're expected to do while you're here?"

He shrugged, finishing up his soup. "Whatever. West always had a list of chores for me to do. And I did most of them. Just not the gross ones like picking up dog shit in the yard." He was better at fixing things than cleaning things, but it didn't really make much of a difference.

"You have a serious aversion to fecal matter, don't you?" Canada quipped with faint amusement. "You mentioned once that you wouldn't be changing Pronto's diapers, but you know, you won't have a choice if I'm gone for any length of time, right?"

Damn, he hadn't thought of that. Well, shit. No pun intended. "Well, as long as I don't have to do it all the time. And we're getting him potty trained as soon as he can walk." His kid would be awesome like that. He didn't really know at what age kids usually stopped wearing diapers, but his kid would be early as possible.

"I really hope the baby's a girl," Matthew said suddenly. "I'm tired of you and Alfred insisting that it's a boy. At eleven weeks, their genitalia is in its first stages of formation, and yet you both just assume Pronto's a boy."

"Because, Pronto is gonna be a boy. The nickname even sounds like a boy's name. A girl would be cute and everything, but I would be afraid to hurt her. A boy you can actually play with." Gilbert took his bowl to the sink, leaning against it.

Laughter burst from Canada's mouth and he shook his head, shoulders quaking. "I can't believe," he snickered, "that you of all people would say something like that." His grin was spread wide across his cheeks. "You've met Hungary, right? And for that matter, Belarus. And Belgium. And Vietnam."

"Well yeah, but they're all grown up! But a little baby girl, or even a five year old, I would be afraid to hurt her! Oh shut up, it's not funny." Gilbert crossed his arms over his chest, putting on a show of sticking out his bottom lip.

The blond made an effort to stop the peals of laughter and somehow managed to at least quiet them behind sealed lips, though his grin only grew. "So you're going to be disappointed if it's a girl because you can't rough her up? You know, little boys are just as fragile as little girls. And little girls are just as strong as little boys."

"No, I wouldn't be disappointed if it was a girl. But I would be more worried. Look, whatever, it's probably gonna be a boy. So we don't even need to talk about it." Because this was just getting stupid. They shouldn't be talking about it when they had so long to go before they would find out.

Canada still smiled and stood, taking his dishes to the sink. "If you say so," he hummed, passing Kumajiro a piece of creamy zucchini when the bear patted his leg. As the pleasant high of laughter began to fade Canada's entire body decided to suddenly drain itself of energy. He had read that spells of awful weariness were the result of his body working overtime to form a placenta for the child, but understanding it didn't make it easier to deal with. He felt very suddenly fatigued and rubbed at his eyes.

Gilbert noticed. He could see it in the slouch of Matthew's shoulders, and the fact that his eyelids were drooping. "Hey, why don't you go lie down? I'll finish up here. We both had a pretty late night, huh?"

Nodding tiredly Canada murmured a thank you and walked to the stairs. Once there, he grimaced. It was a terrible thing to feel like it was too much of a hassle to climb a set of stairs. And the couch looked so inviting... Ten steps over he collapsed onto the old, wide cushions and snuggled up in a ball, fast asleep within minutes.

Once the dishes were done, Prussia went out in the living room to find the couch occupied. He dragged a quilt over the dozing boy and went to his room to unpack.


	8. Chapter 8

A robin sang cheerfully outside Matthew's window signaling the beginning of another sunny day. Canada had lain awake in bed for at least an hour already, simply gazing out the window and chatting quietly on the phone. "Well, no," he said after a long and thoughtful pause, "I've just been tired lately. Placenta-building and whatnot. I haven't fainted or anything. Dunno why you make it sound like a big thing; Gilbert's been very helpful lately."

On the other end of the phone, a low hum was heard. "_Yeah, I remember how exhausted you can get. Then later on, it gets hard to sleep, so you're even more tired. I bet Prussia wouldn't carry you if you were too tired to go to bed_," Alfred muttered, still trying to find flaws in the albino.

"Well, they can't all be heroes," Canada answered with a chuckle, snuggling deeper into his blankets. "I'm not expecting him to be my brother. More like... my chore helper and eventual nanny."

Alfred's pout was audible over the phone. "_He wouldn't be good enough. And how can you actually live with him? How do you know he's not just gonna move out as soon as the baby is born_?" Alright, so that would be kind of backwards, but it could happen!

"Well, for one, he said he would, and I'd like to believe his word is good," Canada said thoughtfully. "And then there's also the fact that Germany kicked him out."

_"Proof right there! He had to be kicked out before he would man up and do it. He wouldn't even be there if he didn't need a place to stay_." America held the phone with his shoulder as he typed on his laptop, going between work and World of Warcraft.

"But he's here, isn't he? He could be bunking with any other nation, but he came here. That's a start." Canada sighed as his stomach began to rumble. He didn't want to get up, but he was getting awfully hungry.

There was a grumble. _"I guess. Brownie points for going to your house. But... just make sure you're alright with this, okay? It took me a lot of sleepless nights before I decided not to tell any of the fathers, and this is an equally big decision_."

"Yes, _mom," _Canada answered with a smile, shaking his head. He groaned, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Hunger was winning out over laziness. "So? Are you getting caught up with work?"

_"Yeah, pretty much. I mean my boss always gives me way more than I can do, that'll never change, but I'm doing most of it at least. How about you? You still have a lot of work. Can't be easy, eh? I remember when being a country wasn't just about signing important documents_."

"I just take care of it like I always do," he answered, shrugging though no one was there to see it. "Except now I get to nap. It's a wonderful change in pace."

Alfred chuckled at that, as he started a battle with a troll online. "_Yeah, naps are good. Get used to sleeping during the day_."

"Yeah," Canada agreed, scratching the back of his head as he traipsed down the stairs to the kitchen. "I'd be doing just that right now if _someone _didn't need food right at this very minute."

"_What are you talking about? Can't he cook for himself_?" Alfred huffed from the other end of the line.

In the kitchen, Gilbert was drinking a cup of coffee, because no, he could not cook for himself. "Morning Matt. I was wondering when you would get up."

"Good morning," he replied cheerfully before he opened the pantry door and turned his attention back to Alfred. "I meant Pronto, Al," he chuckled, pulling out a box of oatmeal. "And anyway, that's not something for you to worry about. Everything's fine and nobody has died yet. Get back to work. I'll call you later."

There was a sigh on the other line. "_Fine. But don't let him talk you into sleeping with him! Bye, love ya bro_."

"Goodbye, Alfred." He sighed and ended the call, grabbing the bag of brown sugar before he closed the closet door. "Have you already eaten?" Canada asked the albino, staring longingly at the cup of coffee.

Gilbert shook his head, looking up from his coffee. "No. I was thinking about making a piece of toast when you came down." He saw Matt eyeing up his cup and gave a grin. "Do you want some? I won't tell."

Nibbling his lip, Canada looked from Gilbert's humoring crimson eyes to the steaming cup in his hands. "I... I shouldn't..." He tore his gaze away and felt as though a little piece of his heart was breaking. "Would you like something else for breakfast? I'll make coff- er. Something."

He laughed at that. "Well I already have coffee, but yeah I'll eat something if you make it. Like pancakes. Just a suggestion."

Matthew poured half of a bowl of the oatmeal and put some water on the stove to boil. "Sure. I haven't made pancakes in... oh, wow. Months." He chuckled and pulled out a box of pancake mix from the cupboard. Canada went through the motions in comfortable silence while Gilbert sipped his coffee. After the first disc was drizzled on the griddle he looked up. "Any plans for today?" He couldn't imagine someone like Prussia being okay with just sitting around all day.

The albino shrugged, swirling his coffee. "I was thinking about going into the town and looking around. I mean I don't even know where the good bars are! What are you doing?"

"Er..." Matthew raised his spatula, a brow quirked. "Making... pancakes?"

"No, like today. You have any plans? If not I wouldn't mind having someone who knows where they're going. We could go to all the places you like or whatever. Um, as long as they aren't libraries." He smirked over his mug.

Canada rolled his eyes. "Oh darn. No, I really didn't have any plans. I've been sort of confined to the house since this entire thing started. I think that with the exception of those days in Alberta, I've become sort of a hermit."

Gilbert nodded with a smile. "Yeah, not that you were a social butterfly before. But hey, that's the good thing about you, I think." Especially when the shy little boy turned out to be as lewd as he could be in bed. Well. Had been.

"Sure," Matthew mumbled noncommittally. "But no, basically I have no plans for today. I pretty much just go to town for groceries. But you're free to roam as you so please, o mighty knight Prussia." He held up the bowl of batter. "Want little ears on your pancakes?"

"What, and make it into a bunny?" Prussia shivered slightly as he remembered how much Russia had called him rabbit when he was forced to live with him. "No, thank you. Just your awesome tasting pancakes would be fine."

"Ah... I was thinking more along the lines of a bear or a mouse, but that's fine." He slid one large pancake onto a plate and passed it to Gilbert, pouring another sizable circle into the skillet while fishing out his syrup. "Did you have anywhere in particular you'd like to go today? If you let me take a quick nap beforehand, I'd be happy to come with you."

Gilbert hummed, already into his pancake. "I wasn't thinking of anywhere in particular, just want to see what there is, you know? So you want to have a nap for about an hour? Would that be enough?"

Canada flipped the half-golden pancake and nodded. "Sure. I'll finish this and get a few chores out of the way before I go down and after, we can just head into town." He glanced over his shoulder. "I hope you're not planning to wreak havoc or anything like that. I really like this town; I can't show my face in the one I moved from in Manitoba for at least another century thanks to Alfred."

That made him laugh. "I'll definitely, probably always behave myself. I mean obviously I can't promise anything if I'm drunk and someone pisses me off, but that usually only happens at Oktoberfest."

"I know very well how few inhibitions you have when you're drunk," Matthew said and poured the boiling water into his bowl of oatmeal, stirring in some brown sugar before reaching over to flip the pancake onto a plate. "Which is why you'll need to know where the motels are in the village. That's where you'll be staying if you have a night out."

"Aw, that's cold. Fine, but you pay for the motel." He laughed, then finished his pancake. He missed having these after a steamy night with Matthew, but they were still the best pancakes in the world. The syrup made it even better.

"I'll pay one night a month," he countered, spooning in more of the batter before taking a bite of his own breakfast. "An' I'm not paying for any of the alcohol."

He shook his head, putting away the dish. "I can pay for the drinks. I don't even know how often I'll be going out. I mean, in Germany it was different." Back in Germany he could go out every night if he wanted to, but here he didn't want to do that when he was with Canada.

"Yeah," Matthew agreed quietly. He wondered to himself if Prussia lamented the loss of frequenting bars. He imagined there was more beer than blood running through his veins anyway, but he knew how it felt to suddenly be deprived of things one enjoyed. It probably felt more like a cage to Gilbert than anything else. "Um, there's a good place on the square you might like. I can show you."

* * *

><p>Gilbert would have to remember to thank Canada for the advice on where to go drinking. In the day time, he hadn't thought it looked like much, but at night there were at least a few hot chicks. The brunet was named April, and after her third glass of red wine she kept whispering naughty things in his ear. After the last one, he looked at his watch, deciding that it would be late enough that Matthew would be asleep, and as long as she left before the morning, he would never know.<p>

April was fine with leaving her friends, so they caught a cab to the house. She kept nibbling on his ear and giggling annoyingly. Not that it mattered, because she was still willing to sleep with him, even when he made it very clear that it was a one night thing.

As Prussia had expected, all the lights were off in the house. He took out the key that Matthew had given him and unlocked the door, letting her in first. "After you."

The sound of drunken giggles and insistent shushing and the sudden opening of the front door made Matthew jump. He froze just outside of the refrigerator as the cool door swung close and the light from inside was cut. He shuffled out of the kitchen and into the living room, following the noise, wielding a spoon in one hand like a weapon as he fumbled for the light switch. As soon as it was on, he squinted to focus on the two surprised people in his front room, half blind without his glasses. The spinach-topped yogurt in his other hand nearly dripped from the unobserved angle in which it tilted.

"... Gilbert? What's going on?"

The albino spun around guiltily. "Oh, Matt! What are you doing up? You're always so tired!" Oh fuck, this could turn out really bad. He turned to April. "This is Matt. My -ah- roommate. Matt, this is April."

The tipsy woman wiggled her fingers in a silly hello, but Matthew was both too tired and too confused to understand what was going on. Gilbert had gone out a few hours ago for drinks. And now he was back with some woman named April? What were they doing in his house?

... Oh.

Canada swallowed and looked down, the carton of yogurt in his left hand nearly erupting from its plastic confines in his fist. He reigned in his anger before it spilled over the top. "I'm going to bed," he grumbled, retreating up the stairs and into his room as quickly as he could.

Gilbert scratched his head, trying to figure out if he was in trouble or not. Well, he wasn't yelled at, so he figured he could continue. He turned back to April who was looking around the room. "Well, my room is this way..."

An hour later Matthew both regretted deeply that his room was so close to Gilbert's, separated only by the nursery, and found himself thoroughly disgusted at Gilbert's endurance; the very same that he once had delighted in. He rolled over in his covers and buried his head under the thick white pillow to block out the porno-worthy sounds. Prussia, he decided scathingly, was an asshole. What kind of jerk brought some bimbo over to the home they were a guest in? Did it even matter that Canada had said to make himself at home? He obviously hadn't meant this!

His entire body stiffened when the noise from two rooms down ended with one final scream. The worst part, he thought bitterly once all other unnatural sounds had ceased, was that he and August or whatever were more or less the same thing to Prussia. Their first time he had been drunk, just like her, and Gilbert had brought him back to where he was staying, though at the time that had been a hotel in Berlin. Matthew wilted. Prussia hadn't even wanted to bring him home. The only reason they had continued their dalliances was because the morning after, they had gone to a cheap breakfast place and Gilbert had complained about the pancakes. Canada confessed that his own pancakes far exceeded those, and Prussia took that as a proper initiative to invite himself over to Matthew's home whenever he was hungry and horny. He wondered if Gilbert would do the same for Avril or whoever if she ended up pregnant, too. Probably not; he had no sense of national duty if the child wasn't going to be "One of Them." Canada shook his head and tried to sleep. The awful thoughts were giving him a stomachache.

He refused to examine why his chest was aching along with it.

* * *

><p>When Gilbert woke to an empty bed, he smiled and turned over, snuggling into the pillow. At least the girl had understood that it was just for the one night. It was even better that she left before anyone was awake.<p>

He got up when his stomach started rumbling. Maybe Matt would be making some pancakes already.

Once the albino had convinced himself to stumble down the stairs he found a distinct absence of Canada in the kitchen. In fact, it was not until he had made himself some coffee and strolled into the living room to watch television that he found him curled up on the couch with Kumajiro in his lap, reading one of his thick baby instruction manuals... and completely ignoring his awesome presence. Matthew did not look up until Gilbert greeted him and only then did he grumble a quiet, monotonous good morning.

Prussia frowned when he went immediately back to reading his book. "Um, sorry about last night. Thought you'd be asleep. Next time I'll call ahead or something..."

Kumajiro looked up when his owner tensed. In Matthew's head a mantra began to play. _Gilbert, you're an asshole. You're an asshole. You're such an asshole_! But the only thing that he could say at that point was, "Don't. I don't want to know when you're planning to sleep with someone."

"Oh. Uh, alright then." In that case, he would just have to wait until at least midnight before bringing someone over. That was fine by him; he just thought that he could warn Matthew to not come out of his room or something.

Of course, none of that made Matthew feel any better about the ordeal, and the rest of the day was spent in a nearly unbearable, terribly awkward silence between them. Even on the occasions that Gilbert did try to strike up a conversation, Matthew would only hasten to disappear or comply with whatever suggestion the albino had before vanishing to another part of the house. He knew it was silly, but he simply had no desire to be around Prussia. All he could think about was what he had done last night and who he'd been with and the fact that Gilbert didn't care where he got his jollies, just that he did. It made him feel almost dirty, even though he had agreed to the plan in the very beginning.

* * *

><p>The week to follow was ridiculously boring. They didn't really talk much. Well, Matthew talked a lot. To his brother. He seemed to be on the phone all the time now, so Gilbert figured that he ought to go out again or else he would die from pent up frustration.<p>

Never one to deny himself, Gilbert slipped out of the house one night when his libido reached its limit. He visited the same bar as the last time because the town was small and the only other place open so late was too seedy for even him. As the night progressed he decided upon chatting up various patrons that he would not make the same mistake as last time. He wouldn't bring another woman into Matthew's home.

And at that perfect moment, a flirty, brown-eyed little number by the name of Jeanne strolled up to him with a smile on his lips and a suggestive tattoo of a couple of birds permanently inked across the small of his back; it peeked up at Gilbert when the lithe young man leaned over the counter, slowly coming into view as the tight shirt inched up his tan body. Jeanne spoke in such a heavy French accent that it was a wonder Gilbert could understand him at all, but he was able to get across 'can I follow you home?' fairly well.

Well, this wouldn't be bringing a woman back, now would it? It was a wonder how Gilbert convinced himself that bringing a man to Canada's house would turn out any better, but he obviously had as he wrapped his arm around the small of Jeanne's back, caressing that tattoo. "You can follow me anywhere. But home might be more convenient." He glanced at the clock... it was almost midnight. So maybe a little more flirting, then they could head out.

Jeanne caught his eyes flickering to the clock and practically molded himself to Gilbert's side, murmuring in his ear, tone sultry and low. "Do you 'ave somewhere to be?"

"Nope, just don't want my roommate getting in the way. Don't worry, the only place I plan to go tonight is my bed." Gilbert gave a suggestive raise of his eyebrows, hand slipping down to give that nice ass a squeeze. It wasn't as supple as the last girl, who he had already forgotten the name of, and as far as a guy's ass he would much rather be squeezing Matt's, but it was still a nice ass.

"Oh?" Jeanne's lips curved into a wicked smile. He hooked one leg around Gilbert's in a way that nearly put him half in the albino's lap. "Poor thing. If 'e is not unappealing, perhaps 'e could join us?"

That thought put Gilbert off. He glanced away, turning his bottle of beer around in his hands. "Nope, he's taken. Gonna have a kid actually." For one, Matthew would never agree to a threesome, even if he wasn't pregnant. For another, the albino was fairly sure that he didn't want a strange French guy all over him.

Not deterred, Jeanne shrugged a delicate shoulder. "Ah. 'is loss. A fate undeserved. That's why it is best to keep to your fellow man, no?" He laughed at his own joke and plucked the bottle from Gilbert's fingers, taking a sip. "Hmm." He looked over the blue bottle in speculation and set it back down. "I do prefer wine. No bother. When may we go?"

Gilbert wasn't even sure why he was bothering to wait so long. The last time was a fluke that Matthew was awake, he would totally be asleep by now. Prussia threw down some coins on the table and stood. "Right now. Can't wait to see if you have any other tattoos." He put his finger on Jeanne's lips to silence him. "Don't tell me. Wanna find out on my own."

On the ride home the lithe brunet could barely keep his hands to himself, cooing in French over the toned musculature of his new friend. He grinned when they had finally made their way up the mountain and stopped in front of the sizable cabin nestled in a clearing. "So charming!" he exclaimed, sliding out the door. "You 'ave such a darling home. Is your bedroom this quaint, I wonder?"

"My bedroom is fucking awesome. If a little messy, but it's not like we'll be doing much on the floor. Unless you're into that kinda stuff." Gilbert quietly opened the door, and peeked around to make sure the fridge door wasn't open. The coast was clear.

Jeanne poked his head in too, grinning. "What are we looking for?" he whispered secretively, slipping past Gilbert and taking off his sweater.

"Bears," Gilbert whispered with a grin. Then he grabbed hold of Jeanne's hips, bringing him close for some good snogging, before leading him upstairs. "Wanna have a contest to see who can get undressed fastest? My friend holds the record, four seconds."

"Your friend must not wear very much," Jeanne laughed before sliding into a room after Gilbert and closing the door with a quiet snap. Neither seemed to be aware of the sturdy mass of white fur half in, half out of the bedroom two doors down.

* * *

><p>Jeanne was humming to himself in the morning, looking around the large kitchen for something easy to make. After all, Gilbert had done the driving last night, and he definitely didn't want to walk down the hill to get a taxi. He just grabbed some eggs, deciding to make an omelet. Or two, since he figured that his one night stand would probably eat a lot.<p>

He hadn't so much as pulled the milk from the refrigerator when the sound of footsteps shuffled down the stairs. A coy smile drifted over his lips and he turned, cocking his hip to the side only to freeze. The sudden stiffening was mirrored by the blond man that had just appeared in the doorway.

"Oh, _bonjour_. You must be Gilbert's roommate. 'e mentioned you last night, I must 'ave forgot." He bit his lip, looking at the carton of milk in his hands. "I 'ope you don't mind, I was going to make breakfast. You can 'ave some too, of course."

Matthew must have looked like a fool, his jaw dropped and mouth opening and closing. "W-who are you?" His voice was barely more than a squeak, and even as it came out he knew. The disheveled hair, the wrinkled clothes, the self-satisfied aura. He knew exactly who this man was. Just another one of Prussia's nightly partners. He'd taken another one of Canada's citizens and warped them, taking a steel bat to Matthew's love for his citizens- for himself.

The man held out his hand, a warm smile on his face. "Sorry, where are my manners? My name is Jeanne. I am here for picking season."

Matthew's brow furrowed. He was here for... Cherries. Of course. It would have been a relief to hear if that hadn't obviously been why the young human was here in his _home. _Matthew rubbed at his eyes under his glasses and forced a smile, his tongue easily switching from English to Quebeqois. "Please go," he murmured. "I will call a car for you. Where are you staying?"

Jeanne was a little surprised by both the fluent French, and the quick dismissal. "Well, you see, I don't really have a place to stay. The hotels here are so expensive. But thank you for calling a car." He put the milk back in the fridge, knowing well enough when he wasn't wanted. "Could you tell Gilbert thanks for last night? He was still asleep when I left."

"Ah... Yes, I will." He bit the inside of his cheek when the young man put away the ingredients. Really, he was quite young... he looked almost young enough to be borderline jailbait. Matthew caught him by the arm as he passed, startling the human. "I'm sorry," he apologized. Inside his stomach coiled in anger, but it wasn't this poor boy's fault. He didn't even have a place to stay. "I'll call for a ride, but you... you can stay for breakfast. Um... how old are you?"

The dark haired man smiled in thanks. "I'm twenty. Do not worry, I am legal. You are very kind. What is your name?" He once again got out the ingredients. If he was allowed to stay for breakfast the least he could do was make it.

Releasing a sigh at that, Matthew stayed in the doorway, trying to pick one emotion out of the hundreds running through him and stick with it. "Ah, I'm C- Matthew. Matthew Williams." He blushed when Jeanne found a bag of sugar in the fridge and pulled it out curiously. "I, uh... I had a craving for sweets last night, so..."

He laughed at that and put the bag back. "Gilbert said your girlfriend was pregnant, I did not know the father got cravings as well." He wasn't sure why Matthew got really pale at that, but he figured it wasn't really his business. "Sorry if it was a secret. He mentioned it last night."

Matthew forced a smile, tucking away his anger and locking it up tight. "No, it wasn't a secret. Gilbert's just insensitive." He stepped closer and pulled the container of salt from the top shelf that petit Jeanne seemed to have a bit of trouble reaching, handing it to the young man. "He wouldn't understand sympathy pains if they bit him in the ass."

"Yes, I can tell that he is not the nicest man on the planet. But it gave me a place to sleep, and a warm breakfast." If every night would be like that one, he would be living very well indeed. Not to mention that this morning, he had actually been able to have a shower.

"So you and he are in the same boat," Canada said with a sigh and a shake of his head. He pushed the thin wire glasses further up the bridge of his nose and retrieved a skillet for Jeanne, rummaging through his utensils for a spatula.

Jeanne turned to him, a curious tilt to his head. "You mean he has no place to stay as well? You must be a very generous man, Matthieu, for letting him stay here." Especially if Gilbert kept bringing people home. That must not be pleasant.

Matthew's smile turned a bit awkward at that and he shrugged uncomfortably. "He was kicked out of the house he shared with his brother, and I... I'll need help when the baby comes. So it's not really generosity. This is just a down payment for all the dirty diapers he'll have to deal with."

Jeanne laughed at that. "Where is the mother?" he asked, but as soon as he saw the look Matthew gave him, he backtracked. "I mean, sorry, I shouldn't have asked something so personal. We just met, after all. Ah, what would you like in your omelet?"

Wordlessly Matthew handed him a jar of pickled radish and a little plastic carton of vanilla pudding. His facial features contorted into a sheepish expression. "You're not being nosy. I'm sorry. It's just... it's kind of a sore topic." He pulled out a few plates and forks from the cabinet. To divert the hot-button issue, Canada quickly asked, "What's a young man doing on his own with no place to stay during picking season?"

He shrugged, and decided not to ask about the strange ingredients. "Well, me and my parents didn't really get along. A couple of friends were coming down here, so I came as well."

Matthew's brow furrowed in concern. "Why aren't you staying with your friends? It's not safe to travel without shelter. Especially out here; there are more bears in the rural mountains than farther out in the province."

Jeanne smiled as he got ready to flip the omelet. "They are like me. Some times we get enough money together to stay somewhere, but normally we just try to find a place to stay. Please don't worry about me, Matthieu, you have been so generous already."

"I-I haven't really done anything," Canada stuttered, embarrassed. He felt guilty all of the sudden. "I was very rude to you earlier. I'm sorry." He offered an apologetic smile. "I've been taken off my caffeine supply recently, and I'm usually a grouch in the morning without it."

"No, you were not rude at all. There was a stranger in your kitchen, anyone would have acted the same." He reassured calmly. "And you have done much, you are a very kind man. I am sure that your... child will be very happy."

Matthew's bottom lip quivered at that and he resisted the overpowering urge to squeeze the living daylights out of his citizen. "You're very sweet to say that," he sniffed, looking down at the sudden pat at his leg. "Kuma?"

Kumajiro caught his gaze before looking toward the doorway. "Idiot," he said plainly, looking back up at Canada to see if his master comprehended. Matthew's brow furrowed.

"Kuma, that's not very ni-"

Gilbert walked in the kitchen, hair a complete mess, obviously just out of bed, and in only a pair of boxers. He gave a yawn, then froze as he opened his eyes and saw Matthew and his fuck from last night... cooking together. "Uh... mornin'?"

Matthew's good mood evaporated in an instant. His eyes narrowed and he turned abruptly, speaking to Jeanne in quick Quebecois. "You are more than welcome to stay for breakfast," he said in an impressively controlled tone, "but I will call you a car. I'll be ashamed if you are here to see the way I'm about to behave."

Canada turned and brushed past Gilbert in the doorway, completely ignoring him on his way to the telephone.

The Prussian just stood, red eyes wide. Why the hell didn't this guy leave earlier? Damn, that girl from before had at least had the decency to get out before anyone woke up! Gilbert went to the coffee machine. If shit was going down, he at least wanted to be awake for it. And what was the problem anyway? Matthew had said get a motel room if he was drunk. Last night he had only had three beers! Alright four, but that wasn't even close to drunk!

The petite brunet glanced out of the corner of his eye as he slid a perfect pickled radish and vanilla pudding omelet onto a plate for Matthew. "Your roommate... 'e is very sweet." He hacked his own down the middle with the spatula. "You did not tell me 'e was so cute."

"Like I said, he's taken. Out of bounds. Even I'm not allowed to touch him, so paws off." Gilbert thought of a few more things he could say to make Matthew seem less appealing, but decided not to when his cup was full.

A quick glance toward the albino's serious face told Jeanne all he needed to know. He smirked. "I said nothing about wanting 'im," he hummed. "But you are very defensive. You want him for yourself, _oui_?"

Fuck, the coffee couldn't work fast enough. Gilbert turned to the man who just last night he had fucked into the mattress. "What are you, Dr. Phil? Look, John, last night was fun, but I thought I made it clear it was one night only. Not one night and breakfast, or whatever the hell this is."

The shorter man frowned at him, unimpressed. (It probably would have been different had he known exactly who the man he had slept with last night was- exactly what he had done in past centuries and what he was capable of. Unfortunately for Gilbert, all he could see was an attractive but huffy man wearing naught but a pair of underpants with baby birds printed all over.) "Yes. And I will take my leave after I eat the meal that Mathieu has graciously allowed me to make." He sniffed and turned back to the food, snapping the heat off the burner and sliding his own omelet onto a plate of his own. He grabbed both of the plates and the two forks Canada had sat out, placing them both on the table. "The man is right. You are a terrible 'ouseguest."

Gilbert sneered, slamming his hand on the table. "He wouldn't say that! Fucking liar! Fine, eat your fucking omelet, then go!" He took his cup of coffee and stalked into the living-room. Matthew wouldn't say that about him. He was the one that wanted him there in the first place...!

Canada hurried into the kitchen from the next room and frowned, his eyes flooding with concern. "I heard yelling. Are you alright?"

Jeanne gave an awkward smile. "Yes, I am fine. It is a shame that I did not see this side of Gilbert last night, though, or else I would not have come home with him." He indicated the seat with the omelet in front of it. "Would you like to eat with me?"

Throwing a quick glance toward the living room he smiled tiredly at the young man and joined him for a mostly quiet breakfast.

The two ignored Gilbert as Matthew walked him to the door half an hour later. A dark cab was parked in front of the home and Canada placed a small roll of money in Jeanne's hand, squeezing the human's slim fingers around it. "You're a smart boy," he said gently in the tongue Francis had taught him in centuries long past. "I know you will take this and find yourself a place to stay while you are here. And once you're done, you will return home and reconcile your parents until you can stand on your own two feet."

The French-Canadian squeezed his hand back, and then pulled him forward for a hug. "Thank you so much, you have been so kind to me. Do yourself a favour, and don't let Gilbert get under your skin."

"Too late for that," Matthew replied warily and sent him on his way, waving as the cab disappeared rolling down the mountain. He slowly closed the door and faced it for a moment, taking a deep breath. A thousand angry thoughts were buzzing in his head. He wanted to throw something. What he _needed _was a stick and a puck and lots and lots of ice, but that didn't seem to be in his immediate future.

When he went back inside, Gilbert was waiting for him, leaning against a door frame. "Sorry about that. I thought he had left already. Must have been awkward for you." He finished his cup of coffee, figuring that the conversation was pretty much over.

"Awkward?" With a voice low and trembling with poorly suppressed emotion, Canada's eyes flashed, anger behind his glasses. "That's the word you'd pick for a recurring situation you've instigated that I've shown very blatant disdain for? _Awkward?"_

"Hey! I've only brought one other person home! And if you hadn't been awake then, and if this guy would have just left, then you wouldn't have had to deal with it anyway! And even then, you could have sent him away, but you wanted to have _breakfast_ with him!" Gilbert argued, immediately on the defensive. He was in the right after all: Matthew was the one who didn't want to have sex with him, and it wasn't like he was going to suffer blue balls for the whole time he lived here.

Matthew's bone-white fist slammed against the sturdy oak door, and somewhere in the back of his mind he desperately hoped that the sound of splitting wood to follow was just a figment of his imagination. "You think it's okay to just bring random strangers into my home?" he seethed, clenching and flexing his tingling, aching hand absently.

Eyes wide at the sudden show of strength, Gilbert tried very hard not to show it. "What else am I supposed to do? I need a release! Do you know how bad it is living with you but not being able to fuck you? You can't refuse me sex completely! I'm used to it, like, three times a week at _least_!"

"Then stay out in the city, you inconsiderate ass!" Canada was overtaken by the sudden desire to hit him. He held himself back. "It's all well and good when it's just you, but what about when the baby is born?" His heart constricted painfully at the thought to follow. "You think it's healthy for a child to be exposed to that? _Your _baby will grow up thinking it's perfectly fine to offer their body to whoever comes along. And you're okay with that?" Matthew felt sick. He moved past Prussia toward the stairs. "No, I know what you'd think. It would be easier to expose the ugly world right from the start. It would be kinder to not let the baby grow up believing in the illusion of love, don't you think?"

Gilbert followed him angrily. "You know what, yeah, I do think that! You would rather lie to the kid, tell them all about fairy tales and happily ever fucking after! That's all good and fine, but what when the kid finds out that Santa Claus and wish-come-trues are all lies? The world won't protect them from things! _Real_ things. Besides it's not like I'm gonna have sex in front of the kid or anything, so I don't see your fucking problem! It's just sex! Am I stopping you from getting some tail? No! Go out and fuck your brother if you want, he would probably like that!"

Matthew turned on his heel and slapped him hard, only in the last moment opening his hand. "You son of a bitch," he hissed. "Don't you dare talk about my brother like that. I don't sleep with people to relieve boredom, and I certainly wouldn't bring a stranger that I'd never met before into my home."

Cupping his stinging face, Gilbert glared up at him dangerously. "You better be fucking glad that you're pregnant. Normally I only hold myself back from hitting girls." He took a step back so he wouldn't even be tempted. "And I don't see what you being a prude has to do with me not taking people home."

Matthew backed away himself, an arm sliding protectively over his stomach. "What it means is that I have standards and you're a pigheaded slut. I didn't think I'd need to because we're adults, but I guess we have to set rules and boundaries. Rule number one: Don't bring your fuckbuddies into my house!"

"I thought this was supposed to be _our_ house; you know, the whole me moving in thing? Because of you I had to leave my home, my land, my fucking people, so don't start saying this is _your_ house like I'm a fucking guest here still!"

"Well, I had assumed you'd have a little decorum and decency. I told you the other _week _to stay at a motel if you..." He paused and winced, recoiling at a sharp pain in his chest.

Seeing the action, Gilbert rolled his eyes and grabbed Matthew by the wrist, stalking back down to the kitchen and looking through the cupboards. "If I was drunk, yeah. But I wasn't drunk." Once he found it, he shoved the bottle of Tums into Matthew's hand and turned around with a frown, seeing the container of vanilla pudding. "And you know this shit gives you heartburn."

Matthew scowled, red flushing his cheeks. "Shut up. I really wanted it," he growled, losing his temper. Now he just felt drained. Matthew hated yelling. He popped two of the Tums in his mouth and turned, trudging back up the stairs and scooping Kumajiro up. "I'm going to lay down," he grumbled, taking the steps two at a time.

"That gives you heartburn too!" Gilbert yelled up the stairs. Then he went about the kitchen, making himself some toast and throwing away the pudding. Dammit, if he wasn't allowed to have people over to fuck, then what was he going to do? Did Matthew really expect him to go to a motel every time he got horny? That was ridiculous!

But as it was, he supposed he'd just have to get his rocks off down in the village next time. He'd scope out a motel eventually. Now, to battle with Matthew's ancient toaster...


	9. Chapter 9

Matthew was suffering before the crisis had even made it on the news. The whole world was in a recession and nobody was feeling their best, but because of a sudden, complex plummet in his own stock market, the moment a few detrimental numbers collided with the bottom of the chart, Canada's health took a turn for the worst. It started out as a nasty cold and then to his dismay, someone uncovered and brought to light an unpaid, unrecognized debt to the nation at a substantial amount, and once his people had become enraged, Matthew became too weak to even walk from room to room. It had lasted for days and he was steadily getting worse. His symptoms fell under those of a nasty flu virus and he was exhausted, awake for only short bursts of time. Once he had been awakened by the phone going off on the stand beside his bed, but he had neither the strength nor the will to lift his hand and answer it. But just because he slept didn't mean he wasn't restless.

Kumajiro's face appeared more than once in the sluggish passing of time, but that was all. When his flu-fuzzy brain could conjure up a thought, it was only done in regret. Gilbert was still mad at him for raising his voice and hitting him, he just knew it. If Matthew had kept his mouth shut, maybe he would have come to check on him. This was his punishment. Weakly, Canada shivered and tried to pull the too-heavy comforter up closed to his chin. He felt like he had been dropped in a bathtub full of ice water and even the thick down comforter couldn't offer any warmth. He would have fretted over how he was going to fix his economy in this state if he hadn't passed out from sheer exhaustion.

A room away, Gilbert gave an angry grunt and held the phone even closer to his ear. "No, you know what, fuck you! I thought that you would wanna help the guy out, just give him a few bucks, but apparently you're too busy shoving your piano up your ass to care about anyone else! No, _you_ listen! He's pregnant, and because he's so fucking sick he hasn't eaten anything for three days! But no, you guard your fucking wallet with your life! Fucking dick!" He hung up the phone when Austria tried to defend himself. God, why was everyone so selfish? He had been on the phone all day!

When he had called Switzerland, he had gotten death threats for hitting on his sister. When he had called China, he had said that money was too precious. When he had called Japan, he had gotten nothing better than a maybe! Well, he hadn't wanted to on account of being kicked out of the house, but he finally called his brother.

"_Hallo_?" came the voice on the other line, clear and crisp. Another voice sounded somewhere in his vicinity and Germany's own was slightly more muffled as he shushed the excitable person in Italian. "I'm sorry, who is this?"

"It's your brother idiot. Look, Matt is really sick and it's mostly his brother's fault and since he's pregnant I think people should help him out, but no one wants to 'cause everyone is fucking retarded, even though Matt is really out of it. Every time I go in his room he starts calling me Kumajiro. I mean, fuck, I'm not _that_ pale!"

"_Bruder_," Ludwig said, interrupting his tangent a moment later. "I understand. You're an idiot." After a moment of Prussia's indignant squawking, Germany sighed and interceded again. "You haven't even checked the news, have you? It's the hottest topic at the moment. We're already raising funds for Canada over here. Austria's holding a benefit concert. Many of the older nations are bringing out trinkets from their glory days and selling them online for outrageous prices. I think America is gambling with the South American countries. England is taking care of affairs here. He's going to start sending money as soon as possible. Please turn on the television once Canada is fed."

Gilbert almost couldn't believe it. It had seemed like no one wanted to help at all! Well, that might have been because he had started yelling at all of them, but still! He turned on the news and watched a live video from somewhere, where people were... well he didn't care what they were doing, as long as they were trying to help. "Oh... well it's about time then. But yeah, I haven't been able to get him to eat at all, and I'm not sure how quickly this will work."

The sound of Ludwig speaking to someone behind him went on for a few moments before his voice returned to Gilbert loud and clear. "I'll let you speak to someone more experienced in the art of feeding people. Speakerphone..."

"_Ciao_!_ Ciao_ Gilbert! Ve, Canada isn't feeling well at all, is he?"

The Prussian couldn't help the small grin coming on his face as he heard the energetic voice. "No, he's really bad. Keeps thinking I'm his fucking polar bear. Who totally could never look this awesome, by the way."

"Ohh..." Italy cooed sadly. "And Ludwig says he hasn't eaten? Is that for real? Because that's not good for the baby. Ve, have you tried feeding him?"

"He's hardly conscious most of the time! I didn't want him to choke or anything. But I'm hoping that since other countries are trying to help and shit, he'll start feeling a bit better, at least so he can eat." After all, he could make sick food. There were cans of soup, or he could order some.

"Gilbert, you have to make sure he eats! And if he chokes, just push it down!"

"Brother," Ludwig said, and Italy instantly quieted. "You have not forgotten the alternative methods." And then somewhere nearby clapping sounded and Italy's voice piped up beside Ludwig's.

"Ve! You know! You have to use your tongue to make him swallow! And then you massage his neck to make it go down! Isn't that right, Germany?"

"Mm, yes, you're right, Italy. Why is it that you only remember those parts of training...?"

Well that sounded like fun. Gilbert gave a grin. "You know what West, I think you just might have an idea there. Yeah, I have to do it. For the baby." After all, Matthew had to eat, and if it ended up with him feeding him with his mouth, well, it just had to be! "Alright, uh, I think I saw a can of chicken soup here somewhere."

"That's a good start," Italy said sweetly. "Make him something with tomatoes too. Ooh! Minestrone! Oooh, I wish you were here. I'd make the perfect bowl for poor Canada. Feed him lots, Gil. He has to get better! He has to eat!"

"I agree," Germany said gruffly. "Do it as soon as possible. And then I suggest you call everyone you've insulted and apologize. Or at least write."

He grunted in agreement. Well, at least to the feeding Canada as soon as possible, not so much calling everyone back. He wasn't so good at the apology thing. He gave a cry of victory as he pulled out the can. "Alright, sorry Italy, but it's not gonna be fancy. I'm just gonna heat this up and go feed him."

"Tell him I said to feel better, and congratulations! Oh, when he's up to it, of course. Make sure he eats lots!"

"Call us when he's doing better, Brother," Ludwig said before the other line went dead.

Once the soup was heated up, Gilbert poured it into a bowl and grabbed a spoon. Damn, he was looking forward to this way too much. And Matthew would be unconscious during the whole thing! Which was probably good... he would hate Prussia forever if he knew that he was using this as an excuse to kiss him.

Once he opened the door to Matthew's room and stepped past Kumajiro, he sat on Matthew's bed and began to make himself comfortable only to be startled by a pair of drowsy violet eyes aimed directly at him. Canada's lips parted and he tried to say something, but no sound could be heard past his dry, scratchy throat.

Even though they looked more aware than they had been these past few days, Gilbert frowned. "You better not call me Kumajiro again." Damn, if Matthew was awake, then he couldn't feed him with his mouth! That was so disappointing...

A pale brow scrunched in confusion and he closed his eyes before slowly opening them again. He shivered and coughed, wincing at the awful tearing feeling in his throat. He felt awful, aching and dirty. His stomach was worse than empty, almost as though it was eating itself. He was miserable.

Gilbert picked up the bottle of water beside the bed and handed it to him. "Here, drink." But he could tell when Matthew shakily reached up for it that he wouldn't be able to hold it, so he put the bottle to Canada's lips. "Here you go, not too much. How are you feeling? Glad to rejoin the land of the living?"

Matthew drained half the bottle before he pulled back to gasp for air and panted, his head falling back into the pillow from exhaustion. "Mmg... 'm cold," he mumbled as his stomach rumbled angrily.

"Alright, I'll get you another blanket, but after you eat something. I have some soup here, do you think you can eat that?" He held up the bowl to show him, figuring that he wouldn't be able to smell it because of a blocked nose.

Matthew nodded and struggled to sit, propping himself up against the headboard. He let Gilbert set the bowl in his lap and he attempted to lift the spoon, but his hands trembled so badly that a bit of the soup splashed onto his lap. He sniffled, his toes clenching in response to the pain of the heat.

Prussia gave a small sigh. "Here, I'll help you. No point in giving you soup if you'll just spill all over yourself." He moved behind Matthew so he could prop him up more, and grimaced at how sweaty he was. "You know, you really need a bath. Maybe if you're feeling better after you eat."

The ill nation could do nothing but fall back against Gilbert's body and shiver as his front half felt frozen while his back was on fire. He made a whimpering noise and opened his mouth as the spoon neared. He tried to swallow and his throat protested, feeling the warmth of the broth rip down his throat. Even so, he hungrily accepted the next spoonful, the clawing hunger far worse than the pain in his throat.

Gilbert chuckled when some of the soup dribbled down Canada's chin. He took a Kleenex from the bedside and wiped it off. "You're an even messier eater than your brother." He kept feeding him, even as Matthew's eyes began to slide shut, but he would still open his mouth for more.

Matthew couldn't even find the energy in him to feel indignant at that, only strong enough to let Gilbert feed him. His mind was too muddled to formulate any sort of shame or embarrassment at the situation or position they were in. He only felt safe, secure and very, very sleepy. "Gil," he mumbled, his head falling back into the crook of Prussia's neck

Figuring that meant he was finished, Gilbert put the bowl down. "Yeah? You wanna go back to sleep? I'll get you another blanket. Then, later we can get you in the bath, I'm sure you'll feel better when you aren't all sweaty."

He made a noise and turned, his sweat-sticky, feverish cheek pressed against Prussia's neck. "... 'm smelly, huh?" Something rumbled in his throat that might have been laughter.

"Yeah, you really are. Of course, having a fever for three days will do that to you." He knew that for Matthew to have a nap, he should probably let him lay down, but this was the closest they had been since they last fucked, so Gilbert found excuses to stay just a little longer.

Matthew sighed and stilled, his body going completely lax for a moment before he weakly pushed himself up and tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed. "Gotta shower," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Gilbert grabbed him and pulled him back on the bed. "Have a nap, then you can have a bath. This is the longest you've been awake for the last three days, you're probably tired, and we don't need you falling asleep in the water."

Matt frowned and grimaced at the feel of his sticky body and the damp sheets. "No," he could not help but mumble, a whine lacing his tone. "It's gross."

"You're allowed to be gross, you're sick." But Gilbert could see the determined, if tired, look in his eyes, so he gave a sigh. "Alright, fine, but I'm not leaving you in there by yourself. I'll run a bath for you, but I'll have to... help you and shit." And wash him. Oh fuck, this might turn out to be better than mouth-feeding him.

Matthew sat once Gilbert had gone to start the water and pulled at his bedding, the sheets pulling up and over the mattress as he tugged. Canada grunted and pulled it all off the bed, slumping over a bit sleepily after.

When Prussia came back in the room and saw all the blankets on the floor, he lifted an eyebrow. "What the hell, I'm not gonna change your sheets, you'll just get the next ones all sick too. Whatever, the bath is full, do you think you can walk?"

Pushing himself to his feet, Matthew moved around the sheets on the floor and followed Gilbert down the hall feeling light-headed and dizzy. He didn't want to make the Prussian feel like he had to do any more than he already was, so somehow he found himself able to settle himself on the toilet seat and take his clothes off with clumsy hands.

Gilbert watched with a raised eyebrow, but couldn't take it anymore as Matthew got his shirt caught around his head and didn't have the strength to pull it out. "Here, let me help." He stepped forward, tugging on the fabric until it came off. "Now stand up, and I'll take your pants off. Don't be shy, Matt, I've seen you tons of times."

Not feeling well enough to argue, Matthew let himself be tugged up and pulled against Gilbert's body as the albino pulled his pants and boxers down past his thighs, and then sat while Prussia pulled the rest of the clothing off. He wasn't bashful, just cold, and he rubbed the goosepimples that popped up all along his arms.

Once all his clothes were off, Gilbert helped him into the bath. "Alright, just relax and I'll wash you alright? Don't worry, I won't try anything, even I'm not that low." He grabbed a washcloth and some soap, as well as the shampoo.

Matthew sank slowly down into the tub, his sensitive skin burning with the hot water, and while it burned, it was a thousand times better than the prickly chill of nakedness. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks once he began to adjust.

Gilbert felt the water, and decided it was a bit too hot so he added some cold. He thought he had heard somewhere that hot water was bad for the baby. After making sure that Matthew's head wouldn't fall in the water, he started washing his body, mainly getting the upper parts that weren't in the water.

When the soft cloth brushed over his face, Canada turned, nestling his cheek against Prussia's palm. He mumbled something and sighed, his eyelids trembling. "Thanks. Feels good," he breathed.

"It better feel good. Not everyone would do this you know." Gilbert realized fully by this point that him talking to Matthew was mainly only for his benefit. Canada mumbled things, but he wasn't sure the pregnant nation really understood what was being said to him. No matter, once he was finished with the bath, Matt could go back to bed.

Matthew's brow furrowed and he lifted his face. "How's the baby?" he asked quietly, his fingers twitching under the water.

It was only then that Gilbert actually realized how big Matthew's stomach had gotten. It kind of looked like a beer belly, but he knew better. "The baby will be fine, I think. As long as you keep eating, of course."

Dark, drowsy eyes appeared from beneath pale lids. "How long have I been out?" he mumbled.

"Three days. The other countries are trying to help your economy though, so you should be getting better soon I think." He got the shampoo and started rubbing it into the long hair, and saw Matthew's eyelids droop.

He wanted to ask what that meant, certain that if it had been his brothers then Gilbert would have just said so, but when those fingers touched him and fed his long-neglected yearning for human contact, he lost himself in it for just a moment.

Once the shampoo was through all of his hair, Gilbert guided him down further in the water so he could wash it off. He didn't bother with conditioner, he had gotten Matthew clean and that was all that mattered. "Alright, I think you're all good. I'm going to let the water out now, and I have some towels right here, so you may be cold for a minute but I'll dry you off quickly."

Matthew hummed in response and waited for Gilbert to do just that and sat himself up, immediately regretting it when the room-temperature air sent chills along his body.

The water drained out of the tub, and Gilbert helped Matt to stand, thinking that if he ever had to do this again he should also be naked. Once he was standing, he wrapped up the shivering body in towels, quickly throwing one over his head and working on drying the rest of him.

The blond had far exhausted the tiny amount of energy left in him and didn't have much of any thought besides wondering why Gilbert was being so gentle with him. After all, surely he was still angry at Matthew for all the things he'd said. "Clothes," he murmured tiredly against Gilbert's shoulder as that, too, crossed his mind.

Gilbert grunted as a reply, but didn't want to dress Matt in the same clothes he had been wearing for the past three days. He half dragged, half carried Canada to the stripped bed and looked around in the drawers for something he could wear.

When he turned around, Matthew was already asleep, so Prussia manhandled him into some pajamas, and then looked at the state of the bed. Canada was already shivering, so leaving him without a blanket wasn't really an option. He would just have to take him to one of the other beds in the house.

So, the albino picked him up, grunting under the weight. And it definitely wasn't all baby fat. Down the hall, he frowned when he saw that the only open door was his own, and he didn't even want to attempt to open a door while carrying Matthew, so he figured why the hell not, and plunked him on his bed.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Matthew trembled from the chill even as his body raged with fever and he coughed, curling himself into a ball in the center of the large bed. Fast asleep, his body registered a source of warmth as it followed shortly thereafter and moved toward it until he was pressed to Prussia's back.<p>

Waking up, Gilbert looked behind him, but saw that Matthew was still asleep. Hm, he was probably cold. Well, body heat was the best kind! He turned around and wrapped his arms around the fevered body.

For the rest of the night the two slept soundly, and during those hours vast donations began to trickle in from Europe. Late the following morning the phone rang, and that was perhaps what triggered Matthew's awakening. For the first time in days he felt lucid, his mind unfazed by delirium and fever. He didn't feel well by any means, but better. It was the longest and most restful sleep he'd had since the beginning of the crisis. Slowly his body began to open to the world around him. He tried to roll over but found himself encased in a firm, tight hold. His immediate thought was, _Alfred must have come up_. The second was a wordless strike of confusion. That was definitely not Alfred's scent.

Matthew quickly opened his eyes and stared. It was the second time since the beginning of the pregnancy that he had found himself face to face with Gilbert in bed. The albino was fast asleep and lightly snoring, and with Canada's hands pressed against his hard abdomen, he could tell that the man was at least half naked. He paled. There was no way Prussia would have taken advantage of him while he was ridden with fever... right? Biting his lip, Canada hesitantly constricted the muscles of his ass. No ache. No sticky, warm goo. He breathed a deep sigh of relief and allowed himself to relax. He would just have to ask why Gilbert would put him in this predicament... later.

'Later' happened to be about ten minutes, when Gilbert opened his red eyes and looked right into violet. He gave a grin when he saw that there was some colour in Matthew's cheeks, and he wasn't as deathly pale as he had been. "Good morning."

Matthew cleared his throat and nodded slowly, his eyes quickly focusing on Gilbert's chin. "Mm... thank you for taking care of me... but, um... why am I...?" He paused for a moment and looked up. "You know... here?"

"Oh, well you see, you had pulled all the covers off your bed, so I figured it would be easier to take you to another bed, but all the doors were closed except mine, and it's really hard to open a door when you're carrying someone, and then, you know, I got tired. And you were in my bed," Gilbert explained fairly quickly.

"Oh... okay..." Canada pressed his face into his own elbow and coughed violently when a tickle caught in his throat and after he gained control of himself he sniffed and looked up. "Are we- I mean, did we, um...?"

Gilbert looked confused at that. "Did we what? Did we... oh fuck Matt, do you really think I would take advantage of you like that? I wouldn't have sex with anyone as out of it as you were! That's practically rape!" Angry, the Prussian threw the blankets off himself and got out of the bed.

Matthew tried to sit up and clutched his head when all the blood rushed from it at the sudden movement. "No, wait, Gil... I'm sorry." He rubbed his temples and squeezed his eyes shut when black fuzziness crept around the edge of his vision. "It's just that last time we were in bed together, um... at the hotel... I-I didn't mean to insinuate anything, really."

"That wasn't even my fucking fault! You crawled into my bed, and I swear I was just as asleep as you were!" Walking around the room, he picked up some clothes, since he was only wearing boxers, and got dressed.

Canada's face burned and it wasn't just the fever. He looked away and swallowed past the sharp, jagged feeling in his throat. After a moment he looked down at himself and noticed that what he was wearing was definitely clean and not soaked in sweat. A quick run-through with his hand professed to his hair's cleanliness, too, and he realized quickly that Gilbert really had taken care of him the night before. "I know," he murmured, rubbing his hot cheek. "Thank you."

Gilbert sighed, slowing down as he pulled a shirt over his head. "Yeah, that's better." Once he was fully dressed, Prussia turned to the bed. "So, you're feeling better, hey? Good enough to eat something? Besides the soup last night, you haven't had anything to eat."

With a quick glance up Matthew's eyes immediately darkened with concern. "Last night? How long have I been out of it?" It couldn't have been too long; Alfred wouldn't have kept to himself if he'd been sick for over a week.

"Three days. For some reason you kept calling me Kumajiro." Well, not really, but some variation of the name. Really, it was his own pet, did he always have to forget his name?

But Matthew paid that no mind. Three days? That meant that the developing baby hadn't eaten in just as long. Canada threw the covers over his legs and stood, only pausing for a minute at the second blood rush of the morning. He touched the wall for support before stumbling out of the room on weak legs.

"Where are you going?" Gilbert called after him, then hurried to help him as Canada got to the stairs. "Slow down idiot, you're gonna kill yourself."

"I'm feeling better," he assured Prussia, though he did accept the offered help. "I'm well enough to make it down a flight of stairs." Matthew's stomach groaned from its emptiness and he grimaced.

The albino just rolled his eyes. "You haven't walked for three days, you can't just get up and run down the stairs." Once he was down though, Gilbert let him walk on his own. "So I guess you're really hungry, huh? Want some more chicken soup? I think I saw another can in there..."

If he was being honest with himself, Canada felt like he could probably eat a whole moose in one sitting, but he doubted that was an option with the dry pain in his throat. "Yes, please. Uh, I mean I can make it, I don't expect you to."

So he shrugged. "Alright. Don't over-do it." Then he sat down at the table, figuring that if Matthew suddenly fainted from exhaustion, he better be there to help him or something.

Matthew coughed into his elbow as he looked through the pantry for a can of soup and poured the contents of it into a pan to heat once he had found it. "Would you like some pancakes?" he asked hoarsely.

"No, that's fine, just make your soup. Besides, you're sick. You might sneeze in them or something." Prussia chuckled, taking out the paper and reading it, the headline in front saying MASSIVE DONATIONS HELPS BOOST CANADIAN MARKET.

Canada paused for a moment and looked back at Prussia, eyes wide. "Um... are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, you're the one who's sick. You can make me pancakes when you're feeling better." Prussia read the article, laughing to himself about how they explained the countries donations, seemingly out of nowhere.

Matthew blinked and looked out the window for a moment before turning back to peer at Prussia, his brow furrowed. This was... odd. Prussia was never _selfless. _He was, on occasion, thoughtful, but half of the reason he'd really gotten to know Canada in the first place was because of his pancakes. He didn't know how to feel about this.

Shaking his head Matthew turned back to his soup, stirring it idly when bubbles began to form around the sides.

They stayed silent until the soup was fully heated and Matthew sat down with a bowl. Then Gilbert looked up from the paper. "So... you don't get that sick often do you? 'Cause I don't mind saying it was pretty awkward spoon-feeding you."

Matthew paused and then smiled a bit, lifting the bowl to his lips. "Mmm... no, I'm usually pretty stable. Things are kinda bad for everyone, but I guess it's the first terrible thing to happen in quite some time. Alfred can't be doing too well, either, now that I think about it..."

"Oh yeah, I think I heard something about that. People were wondering why there were so many donations for Canada, and practically none for America. Guess they can't just tell the people that they were worried about you because you're pregnant."

"Donations?" Canada blinked. People were worried for him? That was... different. Then the second part kicked in. "Wait, he's not in the same shape as I am, is he? I need to call and make sure he's okay..." Canada's hands immediately flew to his sides. And then he realized that his pajama pants had no pockets.

Prussia shrugged, not really caring. "I don't think he's as bad though. Let the man suffer I say, he deserves it, he's the main reason this happened to you." It was sad how close their economies were. Sad and a little disturbing.

Canada frowned and stood, walking to the counter to grab the cordless phone. "That's not fair. It's not Alfred's fault that some of his people have shares with my stock."

"Well it's his fault that this whole recession happened in the first place," he grumbled, then handed over the paper to the page with the article on the donations. "Here, read about it. I didn't think anyone was going to help out, but they did a good job."

Canada dialed his brother's cell as he took the proffered newspaper, eying the article as he waited for Alfred to pick up. His eyes widened briefly at the sheer amount of international support that was listed in the print, his heart skipping a beat. When was the last time anyone had expressed so much concern for his national well-being?

The other line picked up, and a quiet, scratchy voice answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Al." Canada felt awful immediately. His brother was probably just as bad off as he was, and he wasn't getting any of the help... and according to the paper, he was also pumping funds into Matthew's economy. His insides twisted and his tone grew scolding. "You're an idiot. Why do you always raise funds for other people when you're in a bad place yourself? You're probably still sending money to Japan, too!"

The super power sniffed loudly. "Buh, he needs the help, he's still... sti.. ACHOO!... hurting," he finished lamely, before blowing his nose. "How are you doing? Everyone's worried about the baby."

"I..." There was no way he'd tell his overprotective brother that he hadn't eaten in three days. "We're fine. We just ate breakfast, in fact." He certainly hoped the food would get to the baby soon. His heart constricted at the thought that he had unwittingly neglected the development of the child inside him for days.

"Dat's nice." There was another sneeze, and then silence. Then... "Maddie? Can I come over?"

Matthew put his bowl in the sink and frowned. "You're not up for travel. Have you heard your own voice? What you need is soup and sleep."

Another sniffle. "But, Maddie, I'm sick, and I want my brodder. I'll get someone to drive me, so please? I'll even bring some work so I won't be leaving my duties to my boss. Preddy pwease? I miss you."

Canada faltered. Damn Alfred. He knew exactly how to wrap everyone around his little finger. How could Matthew say no to that? "... Fine. But the second you get worse, I'm shipping you home and calling England over to mother you until you into an early grave."

"Dank you Maddie! I'm at the bottom of your hill, I'll be there if five minudes!" He had been planning to just show up and collapse there so they couldn't kick him out, but it seemed so much better with permission.

Canada blinked as the other line went dead and stared at the phone for a minute before he shook his head, a smile growing on his face. "Only Alfred," he chuckled before coughing and setting the phone back in its charger. He sniffed and returned to the pantry, intent on finding another can of soup.

Gilbert looked up, a frown on his face. "So you get happy when talking to him. You talk to him way too much, you know that? Every single day you're on the phone with fucking America."

Taking a can from the pantry he took the can opener out of the sink and shrugged. "He's my brother. We share a border and a history. I don't know why you always-" He coughed into his shoulder. "... I don't know why you always have to complain about it. You call Ludwig all the time."

"What are you talking about? That's different, West is my brother." Gilbert explained easily. "And I don't call him all the time. Like, once a week. And that's just to make sure he isn't going re-re-organizing the house or something crazy like that."

"Alfred is _my _brother. And there's nothing wrong with being close." He poured the soup into the same pan and set it on the stove. "He's coming over for a bit, by the way."

Prussia spun around and looked at him. "What? When was this decided? I thought you didn't want him here! It was taking up too much of his time and he needed to do some work and shit!" Dammit, he was just starting to like it here, and now that asshat had decided to drop in on a whim?

Canada looked over his shoulder at Prussia and frowned. "I don't understand why you're angry," he rasped and cleared his throat, wincing at the sharp pain that followed. He massaged his throat for a moment. "He brought some work with him. He doesn't feel well and nobody's looked after him." Matthew looked down before he met Gilbert's eyes again. "He isn't as lucky as I am right now. Would you please get the tea out of the cupboard behind you?"

But he was still angry, and decided to sulk. Which made it even worse when the doorbell rang. "Is that him? Here already? That isn't fair!" He huffed, but faltered when Canada seemed to ignore him. "... Fine, he can stay for a little bit, but I don't wanna have to deal with his shit for long."

Matthew sighed and rubbed his eyes warily as he went to open the door. One look at his red-nosed, sleepy-eyed brother and he quickly ushered him inside, "You look awful! Have you eaten?"

"A few crackers." Alfred wheezed, then clung to his brother. "I'm sorry about making you sick. I feel really bad." He sniffed a few times, then had to pull away in search of a tissue for his running nose.

Matthew grimaced, remembering what Gilbert had said earlier, and shook his head after stumbling to keep himself up under Alfred's weight. "It isn't your fault, Al. And you're faring just as bad as I am. C'mere, I made soup, and I'll get some hot tea going."

Once in the kitchen, bloodshot eyes met naturally red ones, and both narrowed. Until Alfred coughed, ruining the moment. Then they both tried very hard to ignore each other. "Maddie, can I have a blanket? 'm cold..."

"Of course." Matthew went to fetch one from a chair in the living room and returned, draping it over Alfred's shoulders. He was beginning to get very tired, still too sick to be up for too terribly long, but he made his way back to the stove to boil a pot of water and stir the warming soup.

Gilbert got up from the table, leaving his paper, and left. He didn't need to watch Matthew make himself help his brother even when he was sick as well.

Sighing slowly at Gilbert's exit, Matthew was thankful that at least he had not picked a fight with his brother. He didn't know if he was well enough to mediate. But Alfred chatted pleasantly, if nasally, with him as Matthew prepared his soup and tea, and once it was done he placed two mugs on the table with honey and a big bowl in front of America, a second and smaller one for himself. After half the tea in his mug was gone and the soup had been long devoured, Alfred's words began to lose his focus and he rubbed his eyes, yawning behind a hand.

Alfred, tired himself, yawned as well. "Come on Maddie, let's go to bed. I can sleep with you, right?" They hadn't slept together since he found out about the baby, after all.

Matthew nodded absently and pushed himself up, putting his dishes in the sink and taking one more long, soothing gulp of tea before he followed Alfred up the stairs. He caught sight of Gilbert coming out of a bathroom briefly and paused. "Gonna rest for a bit," he said quietly to the albino and then softly he smiled. "Thank you for not making a fuss. If the newspapers are anything to go by, I might feel well enough to make dinner, okay?"

The Prussian glared at America's back, but turned away. "Yeah, sure. Well, now that you have your wonderful brother, I think I'm gonna go into town. Don't worry, I won't bring anyone home. But I might not be back tonight."

Matthew wanted to protest, but quickly sealed his lips. He felt better with Gilbert there, but it wouldn't be fair of him to ask the albino to stay if he would rather be elsewhere. He had the feeling that Prussia would still be mad at him about the fight they had had right before Canada had gotten sick, and he didn't feel well enough fight that battle again. "O-okay," he murmured after sneezing into a tissue hurriedly pulled from the elastic hem of his pants. "I can take care of things here. Be safe."

Gilbert nodded, and then went to his room to grab some stuff. He was hoping that when he got back, America would be long gone and he wouldn't have to deal with him anymore.

* * *

><p>After a long, rejuvenating nap Matthew awoke and snuggled closer to his lightly dozing brother, sniffling. He was feeling a little better, certainly less fatigued, and after a quick check his temperature was significantly lower than Alfred's.<p>

America groaned, the hand on his forehead waking him up. "Maddie, your hand is cold." He rolled over and grabbed the bottle of water, wincing as it went down his aching throat. "I hate being sick."

Canada smiled gently and sat, patting his brother's knee. "Me neither. But at least it gives us an excuse to take more naps. Are you hungry? I can go make dinner."

He frowned at that. "But you're sick too. Get Prussia to make something, he's all healthy and shit." Alfred curled deeper into the warm blankets, pulling them up over his shoulders. "And tell him to get more blankets too."

Matthew's smile waned considerably at that, remembering where Gilbert had intended to go, and what he was probably doing with some attractive, unreasonably intoxicated human right now. "He's out for the night," Canada murmured, finding his glasses on the bedside table and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "But I'm feeling better."

"He left? When we're both sick? What a dick." Alfred pouted, then got out of bed as well, wrapping the big blanket around himself. "I'll come down with you. I have that work I have to do anyway."

Grateful for the company, the two passed a snoozing bear on their way out the door and down the stairs. "What would you like?" Matthew asked once in the kitchen. "There's still a couple of dishes left over in the freezer from Francis. Something green and some kind of meat... that one's probably not best for our throats."

Alfred shrugged, which wasn't very visible under the blanket. "Doesn't matter. Just something easy, you shouldn't be working too hard." Soon after he said that, America was subject to a coughing fit, and at the end of it there were tears in his eyes. He wiped at them furiously. "I really hate being sick."

Matthew's expression softened and he quickly reheated a mug in the microwave before setting a cup of tea in front of his brother. "Drink up. It'll help your throat, and there's plenty of honey." He ruffled Alfred's already mussed hair and sneezed into his elbow before returning to the refrigerator in search of something to eat.

He drank the liquid grumpily. But it warmed him up, and did help his throat a little. "I wonder if the baby can get sick while inside you. I always wondered that when I was pregnant." Alfred looked down to his stomach, remembering the feeling of it being full with life. It was an over-romanticized feeling. Mostly it just felt annoying and painful.

Canada paused. "Aaaal," he moaned, turning an upset eye toward his brother. "Thanks a lot. Now I have more to be worried abo- atchah!" He sneezed in three rapid successions and shook his head, sniffling. "I'be god enough on my plade already," Matthew sniffed.

"Don't worry, no matter how sick I got while pregnant, the babies always came out fine." He didn't mention the fact that, back then, he only ever got a slight cold, it wasn't until the stock markets that he got truly sick. "But that reminds me, I have something I think we should do..."

* * *

><p>"Fuck you, you prick!" A slap rang out in the dark alley and the furious sound of heels clicking speedily away faded into the night as the young woman turned the corner and disappeared from sight.<p>

Gilbert cupped his stinging cheek. Damn, what a fucking bitch. She had acted like she wanted it, all the way from flirting over drinks, to the furious making out they had done in the parking lot of the bar. But as soon as he had slipped his hand up her shirt and under her bra, she suddenly grew a conscience. Now he was left hard and alone.

With a grimace, he made his way to the motel close to the bar. He didn't have anyone to bring with him now, but he sure as hell didn't want to go back home, not when America was still there. So he paid for a room, one of the cheap ones, and collapsed on the bed. He wasn't hard anymore, so he didn't even bother jerking off, just crawled into the blanket and went to sleep.

It felt like only moments later when something warm and soft pressed close against him under the covers. Prussia was startled awake to the sight of flushed cheeks and downcast violet eyes right next to him on the pillow.

"Matt?" he asked, and he was about to ask what he was doing there, but he didn't. Why wouldn't Matthew be there? "Do you want to go outside?" He got out of the bed, and stepped on the green grass of Canada's lawn.

The soft eyes turned up toward him and he reached out, pulling Prussia back into the bed of cornflowers and rolling until the former nation was propped above him. He had never noticed before, but Matthew's eyes really were the striking violet-blue of his national flower. "No," the soft voice called quietly, and fingertips brushed down Prussia's neck and over his chest. "Stay here with me."

And the offer was so tempting that Gilbert had to agree. He picked up one of the flowers, dragging it across Matthew's chest, just because he could. "But what if I catch your cold?" Because there was a flush over almost all of Canada's body. Or maybe that was just because he was self-conscious over his belly.

Canada's lower lip plumped as he sulked and sighed. "I offer you everything and you're worried about catching some silly little cold?" Nimble fingers stroked down Gilbert's hard body and teased the coarse white hair on his lower abdomen. "You would not conquer me if I was bedridden?"

With a mischievous grin, Prussia pushed him down and crawled on top of him. "Do you want me to conquer you? To take your vital regions?" He pushed his hand down, passed the expanding belly, and took hold of a slick cock.

Canada's answering moan was long and sweet and his body moved toward Prussia, burning that familiar and encouraging pink. "Isn't that what you want?" he breathed, a deep blue blossom catching in his hair.

"I want too much of nothing, and a lot of everything." He plunged into Canada's awaiting body. It wasn't warm or hot or constricting, but the way he knew it should feel made him push forward. Then Gilbert was kissing Matthew deeply as he said how pretty he was in that hat.

And suddenly Matthew was on him and around him and crying his name, and when Gilbert's hands began to wander they found the flesh of Matthew's chest to be surprisingly supple. Canada responded to the touches with arousing whimpers. "Don't look," he begged, folding his arms over his chest.

But Gilbert was already reaching up to suck on a dark nipple, thinking how nice they looked on him. "Mm, why do you have tits?" he asked, while sucking on one of them, and flicking the other one.

Canada gasped and squirmed deliciously under him. "The baby," he breathed, tightening around Gilbert's cock. Matthew's large, brilliant white wings tangled with the vines crawling from Gilbert's back and a small bird came to perch on the branch of the miniature tree rooted in the gold of Matthew's hair.

Prussia reached up and picked up a cloud, but then it started raining, and he felt wet, too wet, as he spilled orange juice over the both of them. The only thing Gilbert remembered when he woke with sticky underwear was the last image, a naked and glowing Matthew with breasts, and large wings, arching up. Holy shit did he ever have a fucked up mind.

* * *

><p>Over the next few weeks, America seemed to believe that he could come over as much as he wanted. And come over he did. There were more than a few mornings when Gilbert would come downstairs to see that the brothers had fallen asleep on the couch watching movies, and by morning were curled together so much you could hardly tell who was who. It was disgusting. It was annoying. It was really pissing Gilbert off. Which is why, when he opened the door one Wednesday afternoon to see the grinning idiot, he gave an eyeroll and yelled to Matthew that he would be out.<p>

Matthew peeked around the corner from the kitchen, a worry in his brow. "He didn't see the clothes, did he?" he whispered from around the corner in case Gilbert was still close enough to hear his voice.

Alfred shook his head, holding up the nondescript bag. "Nope, he just saw me and left. That's good though, makes it easier for us." After all, he could understand why Matthew wouldn't want to be seen like this, but it was the only way.

Quickly Canada shuffled over and pulled him inside, closing and locking the door behind him. "It's only the fifth time. He's bound to figure it out soon enough." Matthew took the bag and took the stairs to his room, wincing at the ache in his swollen ankles. "And it doesn't help that you keep finding new places to go. The last two were just fine." He huffed. "I can't help but think you're addicted to all the praise you get from old ladies."

He beamed as he brought the bag upstairs. "It's not my fault that they think I'm mature for my age! And I can't help talking you through it, I've probably given birth more times than most of the teachers." But this new class would be a good one, he decided. It seemed like the right place.

"Right," Matthew said with a roll of his eyes. "Now I'd like you to tell them that you're in your mid-400's and see how they react to your maturity." Behind the privacy of his bedroom door Matthew pulled off his clothes and pulled the contents from the bag with a grimace. "Ugh. Al, why do you insist on these dresses? There are plenty of ladies who wear t-shirts and sweatpants."

"But you have to prove you're a lady! And besides, you look so cute in those dresses. They show off your belly so nicely that everyone can tell you're pregnant and not just fat." Alfred leaned against the wall outside his room, and opened the smaller bag in his hand. "I got you some different makeup, too. That last thing of mascara just globed up on your eyelashes."

"Or maybe a guy shouldn't put makeup on another guy. Obviously that's not how it's supposed to work out," Canada grumbled as he wiggled into the fashionable, but very feminine blue dress. "Seriously though, anything would be better than this..."

Alfred snorted. "Come on, they have to believe that we're married, and I wouldn't marry a slob. Every girl wears makeup. Mathilda Jones is a fashionable girl, even if she's pregnant." He wanted to have the prettiest wife in the birthing class.

Canada laughed at that, his mood lifting. "You're such a jerk, Al. No wonder you've never had a marriage treaty," he chuckled, opening the door to let his brother in.

He smiled at the dress, glad that it fit perfectly. But then he frowned. "Matt, you didn't shave your legs. You'll be on the floor, the dress will ride up! Mathilda Jones wouldn't have hairy legs!"

Canada scowled. "No, but Matthew Williams is a man and therefor has no need to shave," he grumbled, stalking to the bathroom nonetheless. After a quick shave he pretended like the water splotches on the hem of the dress didn't exist and sighed. "Can we go now? Oh... right."

"Not before makeup." Alfred directed him over to the chair and turned on the table light. Then he set out all his makeup supplies, dolling up Matthew until he truly looked like a girl. "There you go! You know, it's a good thing you look so pretty normally, or else this totally wouldn't have worked."

Matthew lifted a freshly shaven leg and kicked Alfred in the stomach. "Don't push it or I'll do something drastic and reveal to all those heavily pregnant young ladies that sweet, adorable Alfred is 'married' to a pretty girl with a dick."

Alfred looked scared for a second before laughing. "Yeah, wouldn't that make people talk? Even though we go to another town so you won't be noticed, I bet word would reach this town too." Then he packed up his things, because it was about time to go.

Matthew slipped on a pair of flip flops and followed his brother out to the white pickup after looking both ways and making sure that Gilbert was no where in sight. After buckling up he fingered the messy ponytail bunched at the back of his head and sighed as the truck began its descent down the mountain. "Does this class have any earlier hours?" he asked. "I'd like to get out of the house and back in before Gilbert wakes up, if at all possible."

"Not really. Hey, I got you some shoes too... and before you say anything, the heel isn't even an inch high! I'm sure you could walk in them, and you would look so pretty!" He pointed to the box at Matthew's feet, a grin on his face.

With a sigh Matthew slipped out of his comfortable thongs and opened the box. "This has got to be impractical. No one else is going to be dressed this way."

"But they'll make you look so pretty, everyone will be jealous." Alfred was a little surprised that Matthew actually agreed to it, but that was awesome. After an hour of driving, they got to the next town and to the building that the class was held in.

No matter how many times they had or would do it, Matthew felt silly walking into the room with shiny pink lips and swathed in feminine clothes. He felt like people could tell that they were overcompensating, that everyone would know that he was a he and not this 'Mathilda Jones' person that Alfred worked so hard to mold. But like all other times, they were greeted with nothing but kindness and warmth.

The elderly lady that held the class was, of course, impressed by Alfred's knowledge. "Such a young boy, but you seem so mature! Ready to take on the burdens of parenthood. Oh, Mathilda, you have found a keeper, you have. Don't loose him."

Matthew laughed and squeezed Alfred's hand extra tight when the idiot grabbed his in a show of affection. "Oh, I certainly won't. After all, he's done this to me. He might as well take responsibility."

"Quite right, quite right," the lady chuckled. Then she showed them which mat they could use and went to the front of the classroom, to talk a lot about breathing and pushing and counting. Alfred kept demonstrating things to him, making it really awkward, but also helpful.

When it was time to leave Matthew bid the kind woman goodbye and only dropped Alfred's hand when they made it to the car. "I did like that," he said once they were inside the truck. He let down his hair and shook it out, slipping the heeled shoes off and into his own sandals. "It was nice that she went over relaxation techniques. That's what I'll need most. Hell, that's what I need NOW."

"Yeah, I knew this would be a good class. They'll probably teach more of that stuff next week too." It was nice that it was every week, because it gave him an excuse to see his brother more often, see how he was growing.

Leaning back in his seat with a small smile, Matthew dozed all the way home with the sound of one of Alfred's country CDs lulling softly in the background.

Matthew enjoyed doing this with his brother, but he couldn't help but feel bad. He and Prussia had not yet discussed the argument they'd had three weeks prior, and though Gilbert insisted he was willing to be part of the child's life, he was becoming increasingly more distant and surly as time passed. His heart gave a nervous jump when he remembered the look on Prussia's face when Canada had lost control and struck him. He had never feared Prussia before, but just remembering the rolling anger and underlying threat beneath those furious crimson eyes quelled any desire to approach the topic with him at all.

He was thankful for Alfred's company because Matthew had never been good with a lack of physical contact. It was even worse when there was someone else in his home that didn't want to touch him with any sort of nonsexual affection. If not for Kumajiro, he couldn't imagine how impossibly lonely he would have felt, but his brother's near-constant company did help.

Once back, Alfred told Matthew to wait in the car while he made sure that Gilbert wasn't there. The house was empty, so he called Canada inside. As usual, he went to his room quickly to change back to his guy clothes. "By the way, next Thursday there's also a class for changing diapers and things like that for when the baby is born. Would you want to do that? It's just a one day thing, not a weekly class."

"That would probably be best, huh?" Matthew murmured thoughtfully as he scrubbed the makeup from his face with a warm, wet cloth. "Okay. Yes, let's do that."

"Awesome! It's at the same place, but I think it's a different teacher. It'll be really interesting, I've never changed a disposable diaper, only the cloth ones. And trust me, that was disgusting." If only he had invented the disposable ones back then.

"I can't imagine changing a diaper would be too hard," he chuckled, and started when he heard the front door slam. Quickly, Matthew stripped off the dress and pulled on a pair of shorts, stuffing the blue material into Alfred's bag and shoving it at him.

He took the bag and made sure it was impossible to tell what was in it. "Well, since it's already four, I might as well stay for dinner, right? What are you making?" Maybe if he stayed for dinner, Prussia would go out again. He seemed to do that a lot.

"Hmm? Oh, that's... that's a good question," he murmured, slightly distracted by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. "What would you like? I haven't been grocery shopping for a week now, but we can go see what there is to scrounge up."

There was a knock on the door, and Gilbert called from the other side, "Hey Matt, you in there? I'm back, anyway." From the car in the garage, he could tell that America was still there, which meant that they were in that room alone, and he couldn't help but think for the hundredth time that week that they were much too close.

Canada glanced in the mirror on the wall to make sure he was makeup-free before opening the door and smiling sheepishly at Prussia. "Welcome back. I'm just about to go see what there is to make for dinner. Is there anything you'd like?"

When the door opened, Gilbert stared, an eyebrow raised. "So you two were in your room, with the door closed, and you're not wearing a shirt. You still expect me to believe that there's nothing going on between you?" He turned away and walked back down the stairs, sick of this shit, sick of America always being there.

Matthew's hesitantly pleasant mood fell and he blushed, feeling shame though he did not know why. Avoiding Alfred's eyes he shuffled over to his closet to find a shirt and pulled it on over his gently rounded stomach, tugging at the hem. "Let's go find something to eat," he murmured in passing as he slipped out the bedroom door.

Alfred pulled his brother in for a hug. "You don't have to put up with this shit. Seriously, just kick him out. Do you really think it's good for the baby for you to always be feeling sad or angry or whatever, just because he's being a dick?"

Canada sighed and closed his eyes, allowing himself a long moment in his brother's hold. "I can't," he mumbled. "He doesn't have any place to stay, and... and this is my fault. We had an argument a while ago and I haven't apologized."

"Who says you have to apologize? It was probably his fault, wasn't it?" Alfred asked, knowing that if it was Matthew's fault he wouldn't have fought over it. "Why do you care about that anyways? It's not like you care for him. You just shagged him and got knocked up, right?"

"Shagged, huh?" Matthew chuckled, pushing America playfully. "You've been spending too much time with Arthur. It wasn't just that. I wouldn't sleep with someone I didn't trust or enjoy the company of. I just..." He grimaced. "I just need to find a way to approach the subject, is all. It would be easier if he gave even the slightest inkling that he wanted to talk, but it can't all be a downhill slope, right?"

Alfred pulled away from the hug, looking in his brother's eyes. "God Matt, you're too optimistic. Always so optimistic. But I guess that's what everyone loves about you, huh?" He kissed Matthew's forehead and nudged him out the door.

* * *

><p>Two days passed in a terrible strained silence between Canada and Prussia. The younger of the two attempted to bring the situation up once or twice, but each time he faltered when Gilbert looked at him a certain way or replied brusquely. He was nervous and with the closed expression on his housemate's face, he had no confidence in approaching the issue, so the silence continued. Thursday morning when Alfred appeared at his door it was like a breath of fresh air.<p>

"Hey, is he gone? I got you a new dress. It's purple to match your eyes!" He held up the bag, letting Matthew see the color.

"He's asleep," Matthew answered quietly, bemoaning his fate at the thought of yet another ridiculously feminine outfit. At least the last one had been blue. "Not that I don't appreciate the lengths you're going to with your financial tightness, but really, Alfred, I'd much rather prefer to wear something of my own..."

But he shook his head, already pushing into the house. "No, your clothes don't look girly enough. Besides, dresses hide your junk well. With pants it would be too obvious." Alfred got to his room, and waited outside as usual.

Matthew pulled the clothing from the bag and grimaced. The design wasn't so form-fitting and girly, but it was just so... purple. "Alfred, please. I'm begging you. If you love me at all, you'll let me wear anything but this," he pleaded through the door.

He sighed and relented. "Fine, you can wear the yellow one from three weeks ago then. They haven't seen you in that one at this place yet, and you looked so cute in it." But he hadn't brought the shoes to match, so he would have to wear the flip-flops.

Matthew's mood brightened a bit. The yellow piece was shoved somewhere in his closet, and it could almost be qualified as a long t-shirt, though it was fairly snug around his body and dipped a bit too low in the neckline to ever be considered presentable as a man. But he fished it out and slipped it on, tugging a pair of biking shorts on under it (he could pretend they were the skin-tight leggings women considered passable as pants these days).

Once the door was opened, Alfred swooped in to do the makeup. "Aw, don't you look pretty? But I wish you would change your mind about the purple one." He wasn't sure why he loked dressing his brother up so much, but he really did.

Matthew rolled his eyes and punched Alfred in the arm. "Shut up and get this over with. I don't want to drag my humiliation out any longer than necessary."

"Alright, then get to the car. We don't have much time to get there, I'll have to speed as it is." Alfred pushed him out the door of the room, then closed it behind them.

What happened next was so traumatic to Canada that it was almost as though it were happening in slow motion like it did in movies. He turned to Alfred once before his body moved to face the stairs. What he was not anticipating was a rather sturdy obstacle blocking his path. Inside his head curses flew though the rest of him had not quite registered the personal tragedy.

Gilbert, startled by bumping into someone when he was still half asleep, grabbed onto Matthew's arms to steady him. Then he caught sight of what he was wearing, and his eyes went almost comically wide. "... What the fuck? Why are you in a dress? Is this some fucked up shit that you two do?"

Alfred reacted quickly, pulling Canada to himself and hugging him close, supposedly to protect him from the big mean Prussia, but really just making the situation all that much worse. "Fuck off, just leave him alone!"

Feeling the need to quell any raging anger and defend the honor of both him brother and himself, Matthew wriggled out of Alfred's arms and turned to Gilbert. "I know you think that weird stuff is happening," he said hurriedly, "but it's not. Uh...well, wearing _this _isn't normal, no, but I mean..." He wasn't helping himself and quickly he was realizing it, so Canada paused to recollect his thoughts.

Red eyes narrowed and looked him over. Well, in that dress, it was painfully obvious that Matthew was pregnant. He supposed that when he got bigger, this would be the only way he could really go out in public. But for now a baggy shirt easily hid the bulge, so why was he doing this? Gilbert crossed his arms over his chest. "Explain. Please, dear God explain this."

What better way to explain than the truth, the rational and ever-welcome voice in Matthew's head prompted. The tenseness in his shoulders eased a bit in relief. Logic. It was a comforting rarity nowadays. "Birthing classes," he answered promptly. "We've been going to birthing classes. Alfred found them for me, and I think they're really going to help when it's time for... well, you know."

Gilbert stared at him for a while, processing the information. Then he looked back up at him. "So basically, what you're saying is that you and your _brother_," he practically spat the word, "have been sneaking away to these fucking classes, without bothering to tell me? Or is it normal in these classes to go with the uncle of the baby instead of the fucking father?" He was practically yelling by the end, angrily curling his hands into fists by his side.

Canada winced and backpedaled. What could he say to take it back? What could he say to fix it? His thoughts were a tangled mess and he opened his mouth and waited for his first thought to come out of its own accord. And come it did. "I'm sorry," he said, and after two seconds without negative results he pressed on. Honesty may not have been the most tactical method, but now that he had put himself on the spot, it was the only option he had left. "I didn't know how to bring it up. You've been quiet, and I've been quiet, and I didn't know how to... to approach it. And I didn't think you'd be interested." He swallowed. "I'm sorry. I didn't... I had no intention of insulting you or... or making you upset. I just don't want you to think you have to do these kinds of things."

"Well, shouldn't I have to do these kinds of things? Fuck, I'm the father! If I didn't have to do these kinds of things, then I wouldn't be here, would I?" Gilbert turned around, pacing in the small hallway. "Fuck, whatever, you two go to your class, have fun, go have a fucking honeymoon while you're at it! I'm not gonna do anything, because I never do anything, right? And I don't like doing anything important or anything so I'm just gonna stay here and eat your food and watch your TV. Isn't that right?"

Eyes wide, Matthew watched him stalk away. He was speechless, the cogs in his brain working a mile a minute. Prussia wasn't angry just because Canada hadn't told him about a silly little class. He wasn't pissed and moody whenever America was over because he hated Alfred as a person. He was upset because he thought that Matthew considered him to be incompetent... that Matthew didn't think he was capable of stepping up where he was needed. Hastily Canada trotted down the stairs despite America's call and found Gilbert in the kitchen by the coffee machine. When Prussia didn't acknowledge his presence, Canada grabbed his arm. "Come with me," he said earnestly.

Gilbert closed his eyes, pulling his arm out of Matthew's grip. "Don't fucking say that. Just because I yelled at you doesnt mean that it's all better if I come with you and your fucked up brother. Besides, you probably won't even want me in the delivery room, so what fucking good would I be?"

And there it was again, the tone that spoke volumes of what Gilbert must have felt Matthew's expectations to have been. He thought Matthew didn't want him around, and that just wouldn't do. Canada wrapped his fingers around Prussia's pale wrist and tugged. "I want you to come with me," he said firmly, moving to meet Gilbert's straying eyes. "It's a special class today. It's all about things that are important for anyone to know that's going to be living with the baby. You're the only other person here who fits that description, aren't you?"

He looked at him, then sighed. "Yeah, alright. But it's still weird looking at you like a girl. Are you wearing a bra?" Well, how else could he look like he had boobs? He half remembered a dream, but that was just fucked up.

Matthew turned bright red and dropped Gilbert's wrist, rubbing the back of his neck. "... It's not like I'm enjoying this," he mumbled sulkily, glancing down at himself. "But I have to look convincing, I guess. At least the clothes are comfortable."

The Prussian chuckled at that, feeling better now. "Well, I guess we should get going then? Where is this class anyway?"

Canada managed to convince the two other men in his home to form a silent, if tense and paper-thin, tolerance for each other. He sat up front and rather snugly between them, the backseat occupied by various bags and packages filled with who knows what, and to possibly ease the tension in the truck he began to chatter about any number of things from the weather to Alfred's relationship troubles. "Oh, come on," he said with a bit of uncertain laughter. "Just because they found him in Francis bed doesn't mean they did anything... or much of anything... I mean, France has been known to spirit hapless young humans and nations alike into his bed without their knowing, occasionally just slightly molested."

Alfred grunted, glad that he was driving and didn't have to look to Matthew. "I know their history Matt. I know they always had sex, angry sex, and you know that that's more intense than normal sex."

Ignoring how awkward it was to be discussing sexual relations with his brother about their former father figure, Canada pressed on. "Ah, but you know Arthur. He tries to come across as a prickly pear, but inside he really prefers affection and gentleness. Just be a little rough with him next time. You're bigger than France, right?" Promptly he slapped himself in the face at that choice of words. "Taller," he clarified. "More muscular. Arthur's into that."

But after a few more minutes of the conversation once again dwindled to an awkward nothing and the rest of the ride was unbearable.

As they made their way into the parking lot of the building and America cut the gas, Canada grabbed Prussia who was looking to make a quick escape out the door. He frowned from one of them to the other. "Look," he began, feeling rather irritable, "I want both of you here. And I know that to some extent, both of you feel entitled to this. But I'm sick and tired of the silence between us, Gilbert, and I'm not about to let it escalate. You both look ready to maul each other at the drop of the hat. Alfred, if you don't play nice, you don't get to take the baby away for uncle-time for at least half a century. Gilbert... I want you here." He frowned. "But if you can't be at least a little less sour and more knight-ish like I know you can be, then I'll go through with the labor by myself." It would take him a little bit of embarrassed reminiscing on Canada's part to realize that he had accidentally let slip exactly who he had intended to be present when the baby was born. He had regrettably been a bit too blinded with irritation for forethought.

Both of them spent a minute in stunned silence, surprised that Matthew would say all of that so forcefully. Alfred was the first to recover, and took off his seat belt. "I'll behave if he does."

Gilbert looked out the window, wanting to escape. "Same here."

Matthew breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as the tension began to dissipate. He pulled a little bit at the yellow hem of his dress, tugging it a bit lower before they went inside. When the three made it into the building Matthew realized with a start that he had no explanation for the third member of their party- and then he relaxed a bit at the sight of a different instructor, younger and decidedly less peppy than the elderly woman from before.

Gilbert looked around, and realized that there was hardly any other men in the class. But there was a bin of plastic babies that was kind of creeping him out. The lady looked surprised that 'Mathilda', as he was told in the car, was accompanied by two. Luckily, though, she didn't say anything.

One of the ladies Matthew had met from the last session was there, though, and came over with a curious smile. "Hi, Mathilda," she said cheerfully, glancing over at Gilbert a few times. He remembered her well: she was the only person he had met thus far who was planning to raise a child with someone who shared her gender. The blonde's brunette partner waved at him from across the room. "I'm glad you came, too. It's so nice to see people taking a genuine interest in their first child. Hello, Alfred."

The blond waved at her, then pushed Gilbert forward. He stumbled a bit, then held out his hand with a glare to Alfred. "Uh, hi. I'm Gilbert. I'm the father." He wasn't sure how else to explain his presence there, and saying he was Matthew's brother would just be fucked up. And besides, everyone would wonder why he had a German accent.

The young woman blinked, her lips parting in surprise. She shook his hand and then turned to look at Matthew and then Alfred.

"Oh? But I thought-"

"It's complicated," Matthew said hurriedly, an awkward smile on his face. "We, uh... open relationship... it's a long story.."

His citizen didn't speak for a long, terrifying moment before her face split into a wide smile. "It's always the quiet ones," she laughed. The woman at the front called for everyone's attention and the blonde woman hurried back to her wife as everyone found a table.

First, they were all given a plastic baby, and then showed how to put a diaper on. Ten minutes later, Gilbert was glaring daggers at the sticky tape that had ripped off, so he tried reusing it, which didn't work at all. The stupid diaper kept falling off, and when he turned the baby on it's head to get it to stay on better, the teacher shook her head at him.

Then, Prussia made the mistake of looking over at America. He had hoped that he would be in the same boat, but his plastic baby was already covered up, and he was holding it like it was the real thing. What the hell was his problem? How did he do that so fast? Even Matthew was just putting the finishing touches on his own diaper! This wasn't fair! Oh fuck, now women were crowding around him, acting like he was the best thing since sliced bread. Gilbert threw his baby down on the table and angrily grabbed another diaper, this time being careful to not rip the sticky tape. It still looked like shit, but it was on.

Noticing the distressed movements from a few seats over, Matthew managed to dislodge himself from the slew of cooing women and slid over to Gilbert's side. "Hey," he murmured, garnering Prussia's attention. He smiled gently. "It's not a competition, right? If it was, we'd be failing kinda miserably, huh?"

"No fucking way am I loosing to that bastard..." Gilbert muttered to himself, hardly even noticing Matthew, then went to the teacher's desk and grabbed a roll of tape. It might not be pretty, but he could say that his kid will run around a lot and be awesome, so he'll need a diaper that won't fall off.

Matthew watched him with no small amount of amusement and waited for Prussia to tape the baby up before he took the tape from Gilbert's hand and set it on the table away from him. "Good," he said, trying to be serious. "But let's try it the normal way, okay? I mean, at some point we'll eventually run out of tape or time or both, and we won't know what to do."

"Well the normal way sucks. This way is more awesome." Gilbert crossed his arms and glared over to America, who was showing off to the girls so random baby shit or something. "How the fuck is he so good at this shit? It's not fair."

"Who knows," Canada said quietly, wishing for a moment that he could just be honest with Gilbert about it. He didn't like keeping things from him and lying all the time. He pressed on, his voice gaining confident momentum as he went, for the both of them. "But hey, it's not like we've ever needed to do things like this before. It's perfectly fine that we suck at it. But after some practice, we're going to master the art of diaper-applying!"

"But I want to be better than him. To prove that I will be a better father." It just wasn't fair that America seemed so perfect at all this shit, and he was so crappy at it. Then, just to make it worse, America came over.

He picked up the plastic baby with tape all over it and chuckled. "Haha! You really suck at this don't you? Look, Gilbert, I'll show you how to put on a diaper, alright?" He started taking all the tape off when Prussia stole the baby back.

"Oh don't worry, I know perfectly well how to put a diaper on." Gilbert took another diaper, opened it up, and quickly slid it over America's head. "Now go mind your own fucking business!"

Matthew's gaze darted around as the amount of attention they were receiving heightened. "Um, guys, really, let's..." His eyes widened with terror as Gilbert lifted one of the plastic babies threateningly. "No!"

But it was too late, the projectile was already in the air. Half way to America's head, the diaper fell off.

"What the hell!" Alfred grabbed the baby and launched it back, hitting Prussia in the gut. "Just because I'm better with babies than you doesn't mean you have to get violent! I wouldn't trust you with any kid!"

Gilbert grabbed the baby by the legs, swinging it wildly. "At least I'm gonna have a kid! I know how much you wish it was yours, but you can stuff it because you'll never be the father!"

The entire room was silent except for Alfred's jeers as he picked up a doll of his own and Matthew lurched forward, arms outstretched toward Gilbert to stop him at the worst possible moment. Pain burst at the back of his neck and across his face simultaneously and he didn't even have time to register the look of horror in Prussia's face before he staggered back, holding his cheek and nose.

Both men quickly rushed to his side. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry Matt, I-!"

"Are you alright Mattie? I didn't mean to hit you!" Alfred reached out to his brother, who jerked out of his reach. But within seconds, there was a solid wall of pregnant ladies in front of both nation and ex-nation, cooing over 'one of their own', and not letting either man even close.

The woman running the class threw up her hands and pushed both of them back, chastising the two in a manner that would impress even England. "The baby can hear you fighting, you know," she scolded, "and at sixteen weeks, that poor girl has got to have back pains neither of you could understand. How unfortunate for Mathilda to have not one, but two inconsiderate men!"

Normally they both would have argued, but after actually hurting Matthew, neither of them could, they just looked down at their shoes and let the woman rage. After a good ten solid minutes of yelling, she went back to the large group of girls still surrounding Matthew.

Alfred scratched the back of his head, not really looking at Prussia. "Well, those women stick together, hey?"

"A woman scorned..." Prussia said, agreeing. Shit, Matthew was gonna be so pissed...

Prussia's prediction didn't go unheeded. The blond was silent all the way to the car while the other two were anything but in a fashion not ironically unlike the exact opposite of the trip coming up. He stared straight ahead as Alfred tentatively started the engine and pulled slowly out of the parking lot.

"You promised," he said coldly after nearly ten excruciating minutes of silence.

Gilbert bit his lip. "I know..."

"But Mattie, we didn't mean to hit you, I swear!" Alfred tried to make things better, really not wanting to spend the better part of an hour with Matthew being angry with him.

"That doesn't matter," he snapped, furiously keeping his eyes straight out the window. A pale bruise was already beginning to form right under his left eye. "You told me you would behave and you didn't."

Gilbert was pretty quiet, resigned to his fate, but Alfred was determined to fight till his last breath. "Well, he started it! I just offered to help, he was the one who put a diaper on my head, and the first to throw a baby!"

"And you're the first to point the finger!" Matthew bit out, finally turning to glare at his brother. "You were provocative and immature. You couldn't be content just to have everybody's praise, could you? You just have to go proving you're superior in any way you can and rubbing it in other peoples' faces."

Alfred glanced to him quickly before returning his eyes to the road. "Well it's your fault he's here in the first place. I've told you enough times that you should send him back to Germany, but no, you say you want him to stay. Did you see how he was treating that plastic baby? He wrapped it in tape! He can't be a father!"

"Alfred!" He noticed then with a quick glance over just how white Prussia's knuckles were as he clenched his fists on his thighs. Instinctively Canada curled his fingers over them as he turned back angrily to his brother. "I don't have to let you over at all, border be damned. I can't even trust you to be civil for one hour."

Gilbert's fist relaxed as he looked down to Matthew's hand on his. Then he pulled his hand away. "You don't have to try to make me feel better. What he says is true after all."

Matthew promptly turned and socked him in the shoulder. "Shut up when I'm defending you," he growled. "I don't like that you rose to his bait, but dammit Gilbert, I said I want you here, and I do."

So he shut up, and Alfred's hands tightened on the wheel. "So you yell at me but defend him? Even though I've been there for you ever since this whole thing started? Where was he for the first few months? Probably fucking anything that walked!"

"And as long as it doesn't happen in my house, that's his prerogative!" Matthew argued, wincing when a pothole in the rode made the truck bounce and struck a note of pain up his spine. After that his tone softened a bit, and the furrow in his brow began to relax. "... Alfred, I love you, and you know I appreciate everything you've done. You've been very sweet to me. But I can't... I won't have you around if you're going to constantly insult Gilbert. It's not okay in the first place, but if it becomes a habit, you're going to do it in front of Pronto and it isn't good for a child to grow up hearing the things you say about him." He rubbed his belly. "What if they grow up thinking that they weren't wanted by their own father?"

Alfred opened and shut his mouth a few times, before giving up trying to think of something good to say. "I-I wouldn't say it in front of my nephew, I promise. And I'm sorry that we don't get along, but I can't help that! I don't get along with Cuba, never have never will. We just don't mix. Why can't you pick friends that I like?"

Matthew's head rolled back against the seat. He groaned quietly. "Why is it that you never seem to get along with the people that see me?" he asked right back, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "There aren't that many. Really. And you're never on good terms with any of them."

For the rest of the ride, there were no more fights, and no more yelling. That was pretty much a victory, almost a whole hour in a car together, with no fighting. Once they got back to Canada's house, all three got out of the truck gratefully.

Matthew immediately went to the kitchen and ate a banana smothered in honey before climbing the stairs and wincing every other step. His back was aching so he fully intended on soaking in a hot bath until his bones were warmed. He found Alfred packing away some of the girlie stuff and said his goodbyes before shutting the bathroom door and filling the tub with hot, sudsy water and slipping down inside.

Once the American left, Gilbert felt free to wander around the house. He could hear Canada in the bath, and considering the length of his other baths, figured he would be a while. Since he was getting hungry, and Matthew was busy, he decided to attempt to make supper. Normally he would have just ordered pizza or something, but he still wanted to make it up to the pregnant nation for today, and knew that he didn't really like eating pizza because all the grease was bad for the baby.

And hour later, he was grimacing at the horribly made food. "_Verdammt,_ I can't do anything right!" he yelled to himself, throwing away the burnt parts of the potatoes and trying to salvage the rest. Then, just to make it all worse, he dropped one of the plates on the floor and it smashed to hundreds of pieces.

The sound of footsteps followed shortly after and Canada appeared, toweling his dripping hair. "What happened?" he asked concernedly, looking from the shattered remnants of plate and food on his kitchen floor. "Are you okay?"

"Fuck... it just... fuck, don't come over here," Gilbert warned, angry with himself. "You're so fucking clumsy all the time you'd probably step on a piece and cut your- Ah!" He pulled his hand away, realizing too late that in his anger he had been clenching his hand with the pieces he had picked up. "Fuck fuck, _Scheiße. Shiza_!"

"Hold tight," Canada said, grabbing a broom and dustpan from the pantry. He was careful not to step on any stray shard and swept them up swiftly and efficiently, and once he was through Matthew dumped it all into the garbage and tucked the broom away. Making his way to Gilbert he held out his hand. "Let me see."

But Gilbert held his hand to his chest and stood up over the sink. "It's fine. My own fucking stupidity, that's all. I've had worse, fuck." He washed the dripping blood down the drain, looking at the damage.

Canada rolled his eyes and grabbed Prussia's wrists. "Humor me and my maternal instincts," he said dryly, prying his fist open. "Yikes. Come on, let's get it clean and wrapped."

He went silently along with him, cupping his hand so no blood would drip on the floor. Once they got to the bathroom, he let it all drip into the sink. "Damn, this seems familiar doesn't it? Just reversed." Gilbert winced when the cleaner was poured onto his cuts, but quickly recovered.

Matt bent over the wound, patting the dripping palm dry before he squirted a little bit of ointment from a tube along the ridge of the long cut and began to wrap it in gauze. "Yeah. Except yours is bigger. Lucky you, you don't have to try and hide it from three overbearing brothers," he chuckled, digging out a little roll of medical tape from the cabinet and pushing the damp hair out of his face before he tightened the bandage once more and taped it on.

Gilbert watched as his hand was wrapped, and flexed his fingers when it was finished. "Uh, thanks. Well, dinner's kinda ruined, not that you would have wanted to eat it anyway. I fucking suck at cooking."

Matthew glanced up at him through thick, pale lashes and smiled. "I dunno about that... it smelled pretty amazing," he murmured sincerely before putting all of the first aid equipment away. "It's the thought that counts. I'll just find something else to make."

Prussia frowned, still upset with himself for making such a disaster. "Fuck, sorry about the plate by the way. I hope it wasn't important or anything. Although it looked like you had a lot more."

It was a peculiar thing, how one little bout of anger in the afternoon could make Gilbert a bit more contained in the evening, Matthew mused, and shrugged. "No big deal. It came in a set. It's normally only me here, so one or two plates isn't going to make a big deal, right?"

He hummed, then left the bathroom and went back to the kitchen, sweeping up the last few pieces of broken plate. It was a little difficult to curl his wrapped hand around the broom handle, but he managed with the ends of his fingers.

Canada began rumaging through the refrigerator for something else to make, heaving a great sigh. "I need to go shopping," he muttered mostly to himself, peering behind a large jar of homemade apple butter toward the back of the machine in case there was some hidden meal behind it.

Gilbert watched him looking for something to eat, and when he still came up empty, he put down the broom. "Why don't we just go out for supper? Or we could order something in, I guess." They were both hungry, and he had used up the last of the easy food in his failed dinner attempt.

Matthew made a thoughtful noise and straightened, wincing as the motion triggered a sharp pain in his lower back. He rubbed at it idly, his face twisted in a grimace. "Mmm... ordering in sounds good. What about sandwiches?"

He nodded absentmindedly, watching Matthew crack his back. "Is it really hurting you that much? The lady at the classes said that it would probably be hurting a lot..." She had said a lot of things, most of which he tuned out.

"Mmm..." Canada waited for the pain to pass before walking over to the phone and dialing the number for the sub shop that was scrawled on a piece of paper next to the charger. "Yeah, but it's to be expected. This week is the start of it because of the baby's weight."

"Oh." Gilbert was silent for a minute, then looked over at him sideways. "So... what does the baby weigh? it can't be very big, you still can hardly tell you're pregnant. Well unless you're wearing that dress of course."

"Um..." Matthew thought back to a few of the books and the chapters on week 16. "I think... I think the baby's about the size of an avocado right now," he said, thumb brushing over the Talk button. "About four ounces. But lots of times, it's a pretty sudden doubling of weight. Not to mention all I've put on myself."

He nodded, thinking about that. The size of an avocado... for some reason he thought it would be even smaller than that. It was amazing to think of the small little life inside of the boy standing in front of him.

Figuring the conversation had concluded, Canada pressed the button and held the phone up to his ear, bending his unoccupied arm back and massaging the small of his back. "Do you know what you want?" he asked with a glance over his shoulder.

Gilbert just shrugged, flexing his hand absentmindedly. It still twinged, and he was pretty sure blood was already coming through the bandage, but he didn't really care about it. It would heal in time. Surely long before the pain that Matthew was in would fade.

When the man on the other line answered Matthew paused in his own massage, his voice cheerful as the realization hit him that he was going to eat soon. As long as he didn't move, the pain subsided. "... yes, one of those, and... just a minute. Gilbert, what do you want?"

"Something with sausage." He said simply. Not that the sausages they had here were the same by far, but it would have to do.

"Ah... okay. Do you have anything with..." And so it went until everything was ordered. Canada sighed and returned the phone to its cradle once he was through and turned, smiling a bit tiredly at his housemate. "He said they'd be here in half an hour, tops."

"Alright. So what do you wanna do till then? Wanna watch a movie or something?" Gilbert asked, not just wanting to sit here, talking about awkward things. At least a movie would let them be together, but not have to think of things to talk about.

"Huh? Oh, sure. Pick whatever you want," he said. He wasn't likely to watch it, anyway. He intended to finish the last of his books before the week was through, and then read through them all a second time before advancing to books on how to raise the child.

So Gilbert picked one with a lot of explosions and violence in it and settled on the couch. Matthew just read, which was stupid, because there was an awesome movie on, but he didn't say anything about it.

The delivery man had beautiful timing, Canada thought pleasantly as the doorbell rang right at the end of the book. "I'll get it," he said and made to stand when he was struck with such a jolt of pain that he had to sit right back down. His face paled and he didn't dare move. "Um... a-actually, could you get that please?" he asked quietly.

Looking over at him in worry, Gilbert got up and went to the door. He paid for the food and brought it in, finding Matthew laying on the couch. He handed him the sandwich and sat down, looking at him. "Is there, uh, anything I can do to help?"

Matthew placed it on the coffee table beside him and took a deep breath. "It's fine," he said with a quiet strain after a moment. "Just give me a minute... go ahead and eat."

"Look, it can't be good to be in that much pain. What if I... I don't know, gave you a massage or something. Would that help?" After today, he definitely wanted to prove that he could be useful here. It kind of brought to light that he was going to be a father soon, with responsibilities, and he should start them now.

Canada blinked at Prussia. He didn't know how to read the expression on his face. "You... are you sure?" he asked. Matthew didn't want Gilbert to do something he didn't look totally sure he wanted to do in the first place.

He shrugged and put down his own sandwich. "Yeah, why the fuck not? Um, can you lay on your stomach, or would that hurt the baby? Maybe we could put like pillows, so that you're not actually on your belly..."

Matthew watched, utterly bewildered as Gilbert found some pillows and helped him sit, gingerly propping them up for him to rest his chest on. He settled himself over them at the albino's prompting and tried to relax.

"So, uh, it's been a few hundred years since I've done this, so I'm not sure how good I'll be." Gilbert cracked his fingers, and then bit his lip and paused. "This would be easier if you weren't wearing a shirt..."

Canada shifted uncomfortably and reached back, pulling his shirt up a bit, though obviously showing no intention of taking it off. "Better?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, that's fine." He got to work, finding the knots in his back and massaging them away. Gilbert didn't go as hard as he normally would, not wanting to hurt Matthew in any way, but still tying to help ease the pain as much as possible.

Matthew couldn't remember the last time warm hands had touched his back so gently and he buried his face into a pillow to hide his far-too-pleased flush. He wondered for a moment if he looked fat from that angle, too; if his hips were wide, if he had unpleasant love-handles Gilbert would know. He'd seen him naked plenty of times.

When he worked on a particularly tough knot, Gilbert smiled as Matthew couldn't hold back a low moan. "Well, at least this is one thing I can do." And considering how bad his back was already, he would probably end up doing this a lot in the near future.

Whimpering when Gilbert's thumbs rubbed out a particularly sensitive spot, Matthew attempted to compose himself. "It's more than enough," he breathed, his body responding to Gilbert's touch unwittingly.

"Glad you like it then. So whenever your back starts hurting you, let me know." He wondered just why it was so bad. Didn't women start complaining about their backs when they were much bigger? But then again, Matthew was a man, who was built differently. Maybe that changed things.

Canada agreed instantly and in the following silence he lost himself in the feel of Gilbert's touch. He had always loved those hands. They had once been a source of unbelievable pleasure, and when they left him he was rendered completely bereft. Such an offer would never go to waste, he decided numbly as his mind drifted off and he began to doze, sandwich untouched.


	10. Chapter 10

Gilbert looked around the plane. He found it strange that Canada had decided to fly public instead of his private plane. But hey, at least it was first class, right? He sat down in his seat, happy with the leg room.

Matthew stuffed their carry-on items on the floor between their seats and sipped at his overpriced drink from Starbucks as he settled in himself. A pretty stewardess passed and flashed him a smile and he offered one back, lips curved around his green straw.

"Man, I can't wait to get there! It sucks that you have to spend most of the trip in the meeting. But you know, since we're going early I could show you around Berlin." Gilbert was saying, happy that Matthew had let him come with him to Germany.

"Eh?" The last time they had been together in Berlin had marked their first night together as friends with benefits. He had expected that Prussia would want to go back home during the meeting, which was why Matthew had planned a flight for three days prior to the schedule; he definitely hadn't anticipated that Prussia would want to spend that time with him. "I... I would love to," he said after a moment.

Gilbert nodded, and settled back to watch a movie and asked for a glass of beer. "So is there any place you would want to see in particular? Or just the places I think are fun? Uh, obviously no night clubs or anything, just places I would go in the day time."

Matthew thought on it as he accepted a tall glass of iced ginger ale. "Well, I guess I haven't really thought about it before," he mused. After a bit of the bubbly liquid slid down his throat he turned to the albino. "From what little I've seen of Germany, it's very beautiful. I'm sure you'd know better which places to visit than I would."

"Alright. I can think of a few places." Beautiful places, that Matthew would appreciate. Historic places, centuries older than the North American nation could even believe. He could tell him stories of battles fought, of graves dug, of treaties signed. It would be fun. It would be awesome.

After a few hours of momentary conversations, movies, and reading on Matthew's part, the sky over the ocean had turned dark and Matthew was beginning to feel fairly drowsy. The seats in first class were very comfortable, but the proffered pillow was barely enough to sate him, and his arms felt empty without Kumajiro. He tried to get comfortable as the lights dimmed in the cabin.

Gilbert was already snoring lightly beside him, so didn't notice when a weary head fell on his shoulder, and snuggled into his side.

The sleeping nation didn't wake when a pale hand wiggled the armrest between them up to make it more comfortable, nor did he stir when a blanket was awkwardly thrown over his shoulders. Somewhere in the back of his mind he must have recognized the sudden shift in comfort, though, because a contented noise rumbled in the back of his throat and he moved ever closer to Gilbert, his cheek finding itself pleasantly nestled against Prussia's collar.

A few hours later, the seat belt light flicked on, so Gilbert nudged Matthew awake. When he was still blinking tiredly up at him, he reached over and buckled him up. "We're landing. Look outside, you can see Berlin."

Matthew inhaled sharply and groaned, slowly coming awake. He peered drowsy eyes out the window, leaning over Gilbert. "Oh wow..." He had always loved landing at night and flying above cities decked out with a million glowing lights. It was beautiful, connected and it made him smile.

"Isn't it awesome? Man I've missed this place..." Prussia was looking out the window with a huge grin on his face, wishing they could have landed in the day time and have had time to go look around a bit.

Leaning back in his seat, Canada nodded. As they got closer, the lights grew brighter, and with a yawn and a stretch Matthew finally shook the sleepiness off. He caught the look of longing in Gilbert's face. "If you'd like," he said quietly, "you can drop me off at a hotel and go spend some time with your brother. I'm sure he misses you."

But he shook his head. "No, he's asleep already. It's passed eleven o'clock, and he never goes to bed a minute late." The plane touched down finally, and took its time slowing down. After a few minutes, everyone started standing up and getting their things.

"But you're planning on staying with him, right?" Matthew said, reaching down for his bag. "If that's the case, do you think maybe we should get two cars instead?"

He shrugged, then once again shook his head. "Not tonight at least. I had to leave my key there last time, and West really hates to be woken up, so I'll come to the hotel with you." But then he thought about it, getting his own bags. "Oh, uh there are probably two beds in the room right?"

"Uh..." Canada avoided his eyes. "Well, um... no." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I kind of assumed you'd want to stay with Germany, so I just reserved it for myself."

Gilbert paused, waiting for some people to pass. "Well, maybe there will be a couch that I can sleep on."

"Y-yeah, probably..." _Crap,_ Canada thought. _I should have sprung for a better hotel... _He had reserved at an inexpensive place, not at all economically stable. One that most likely consisted solely of a mediocre-sized bed and a shower that wouldn't run hot no matter how long you waited. But he could always hope.

There was no couch. The bed was a fair size, easily could fit two people, but the lady at the front desk had said they were full and couldn't possibly get a different room with two beds. Gilbert looked to Matthew out of the corner of his eye. "Um... is this alright? I promise I won't do anything."

Matthew started putting things away in the drawers and smiled wanly. "It's all right," he said, though he himself was not quite sure that it was so. "I don't mind. It's my fault anyway."

Taking out a few things from his bag, Gilbert shook his head. "No, you thought I would be with West. And don't worry, this will only be for the first night. After this I'll sleep over at his place." As long as Feliciano wasn't over and they started fucking constantly.

Matthew nodded and grabbed his nightclothes, rubbing his back as he walked past Gilbert to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower. Could you maybe go see if they can give us some more pillows?"

Gilbert didn't respond, just left the small room. He went to flirt with the girl at the front desk a little, and ten minutes later was back in the room with five extra pillows. He took one for himself and left the rest for Matthew, knowing how he liked to be piled with them in strange places that made him feel better.

Once Canada had finished he stepped out of the bathroom and paused, an amused expression lighting on his face. "Thank you," he chuckled, rubbing at his wet hair with the towel. "Although I might like a little bed with my pillows."

Rolled over to the wall, Gilbert shrugged. "Then throw them on the ground, fuck, whatever. I just see all the pillows on your bed all the time is all." He leaned up and fluffed his own pillow, then laid down again and pulled the blanket up.

It only made the Canadian laugh and he crawled in beside Prussia, sitting and propping one of them under his back and a few behind his shoulders. He laid down and rolled a bit on his side, taking another and holding it to his chest. He sighed and reached over to turn out the light.

Because of the last few times they had slept together, Gilbert made a semi-conscious effort to not turn around and curl up against Matthew's back. It was weird that it kept happening like that, but he figured that it was only because Matthew was used to sleeping with his bear. Goddammit, even that thing got more action than he did...

It was almost like he'd only just fallen asleep when he was awoken by a bounce. Groggily Matthew rolled over and squinted one eye open to see his housemate pulling on a pair of socks, perhaps unconsciously bouncing on the bed. His entire body radiated excitement. Canada muffled his groan into the pillow in his arms.

Gilbert looked over and grinned. "Morning! So I thought we could go to the restaurant in the hotel first, and then we could go around and look at shit. I called my brother, so he'll let me sleep over tonight, I just have to go over before he goes to sleep is all. Fuck, this is gonna be awesome!"

Matthew squinted over to the clock and saw that it read an ungodly seven in the morning. He threw the blankets over his head and buried beneath them. "Too early," he complained.

"But if we don't start now we'll never get to some of the places I want to take you! Some of them are pretty far away, you could probably sleep in the car if you wanted to." He shook Matthew's shoulder lightly, wanting him to get up now.

Matthew didn't want to comply and after a few stubborn minutes of keeping perfectly still and quiet he felt the dip in the bed straighten and the door to the room open and close. He sighed, relieved at the idea of at least a few hours more of sleep, and promptly snuggled further into the covers.

Twenty minutes later the covers were pulled from his body and tossed to the floor, and something that smelled terribly warm and delicious was being waved tantalizingly under his nose.

"Hey, good yummy German breakfast waiting for you. If only you're going to get out of the bed. Too bad you're too tired." Gilbert waved the plate in front of him, but pulled it away when Matthew made a grab for it. "Nope, you have to get out of bed."

Canada whined and rolled closer, rubbing his eyes. "No fair," he grumbled. "I'm pregnant. You should definitely be nicer to me."

"I am being nice to you. Because I know how much fun you're gonna have today, so forcing you out of bed is the nice thing to do." When Matthew finally sat up, he handed over the plate, grabbed his own and sat down on the chair.

It didn't stop Matthew from grumbling as he ate the admittedly delicious, flavorful food. He had heard that normal German breakfasts were simple, but he didn't mind; the bread was warm and fresh and the jam was tart, and nearly-sweet goat's milk was perfectly cool. He had to wonder if Gilbert actually procured it from the cheap hotel restaurant. "So," he asked after munching on the bread for a minute, "where are we going?"

Gilbert tossed over a napkin. "It's a surprise." He said simply. "Trust me, you'll love everything. Make sure to bring a camera though."

"Uh..." He wracked over his mental catalog for any such item. "Okay. But I'll have to buy one."

As it turned out, Matthew really did have a rejuvenating nap on Gilbert's journey. He fell asleep right after they had stuffed themselves in the rental car and passed a beautiful fountain square. When Gilbert finally shook him awake again they had traveled to Dresden; Gilbert had professed that it had always been his personal favorite. A quick tour about the town made Matthew's jaw drop at just how many enormous, beautifully intricate buildings could be in one city. Prussia pointed out all of the buildings that had been reconstructed after the great war and pulled him through the museum located in the royal palace. They strolled by the Semper Opera House after a fine lunch on the Brühl Terrace and Gilbert took that opportunity to brag about impressing "that bitch Austria" with not only the magnificence of the structure, but also the music within.

Eventually as the afternoon grew warm and lazy, Matthew had to rest, and Gilbert hurriedly led him to what he promised would be the perfect place to just sit. Grosser Garten was beautiful. A park, a botanical garden and a palace with a fountain made up the beautiful grounds and Matthew found himself agreeing that it was definitely the ideal place to sit and rest. He could hear music playing faintly in the background and Prussia informed him that the garden often hosted concerts and other artistic venues. Matthew was content to simply look, an extraordinary calm settling over him, and to his surprise Gilbert seemed more than content to just sit and breathe it all in, too.

He felt some small pang of regret when his stomach growled, signaling that it was probably time to find something to eat. Dinner was quick and just as the sun was setting, they departed from Dresden.

On the outer road back to Berlin, Canada sighed. "It was beautiful, Gilbert."

"Knew you would like it." Gilbert grinned at him, then went off in the direction of Ludwig's house. "Wanna stay and visit for a while? Feliciano should be there, and he'll want to talk about the baby. And West will probably want to talk about the medical side of things."

He wondered to himself how he was to get back to the hotel, knowing that Gilbert would probably be too drunk to drive or find the rental keys by the end of the night, but decided to keep that to himself. "Sure. I like Italy."

Gilbert nodded, and looked at the time. Good, they should be finished dinner by now. "Alright, that sounds good. So do you wanna just drive back to the hotel after, then in the morning you can drive back here so I can take you around again? I can give you directions and shit."

Matthew agreed, wondering to himself if he would be awake enough to make the drive. Well, if he felt himself beginning to get sleepy, he'd just say his farewells and be on his way. "Shouldn't we bring something?" he asked. "Like wine or cheese? Italy likes that sort of thing, right?"

"No, anything we bring wouldn't be up to his standards. He likes doing the whole thing anyway. But if you want we could stop and get you some juice or something." The only juice that West kept around the house was carrot juice.

"Now I feel like a kid," Matt laughed with a shake of the head. "I'm fine, though, but thanks."

The remainder of the trip was pleasant and the velvet night was warm in the short walk from the car to Ludwig's front door. Only seconds after Prussia rang the bell loud footsteps hastened themselves closer from inside and a short, bouncy figure threw open the door. "Ve, Prussia!" he exclaimed happily, launching himself into the albino's arms.

"Hey Feli! How are you doing? And why aren't you wearing pants? Seriously, you can be as bad as Francis sometimes..." Gilbert was glad that the brunet's shirt was long enough to cover anything, though... actually, that looked more like Ludwig's shirt.

"Oh!" Feliciano looked down at himself and then back up in unabashed humor. "Oops! I guess I forgot to put any on. Hey..." Italy peeked around. "Hey Prussia, where's, um... oh gosh, you know, that one pregnant guy..."

Canada cleared his throat and Italy jumped. "Waah, when did you get there?"

_I've been standing here the whole time, _he thought dryly to himself. Outwardly he just offered a slightly strained smile. "Not long. Sorry for coming by so late."

Ludwig came up behind the Italian, running a hand through his hair. As soon as Gilbert saw one strand out of place, he knew they had been fucking. "Hey West! Long time no see! Hm, what was the last time I saw you? Oh yeah, when you were kicking me out!" He pushed into the house, grabbing Matthew's wrist to bring him in too.

Matthew stumbled past the front door and apologized to Germany in passing, frowning when Gilbert pulling him into the living room. "Hey, ow, I'm coming!"

Once they were in the room, Gilbert let him go and sat on the couch, the other two nations following. Ludwig cleared his throat and held out a hand to Canada. "I would like to say congratulations. I am not sure we've met." It was strange though, he was normally very good at telling if he had met someone or not, even if it was only once, and it bugged him that he couldn't tell with this nation.

Canada was immensely proud of himself at the fact that he didn't even sigh at the words coming out of Germany's mouth. He shook the nation's hand, marveling for a moment at the sheer size of it. It was even bigger than Alfred's. "We probably haven't," he said a bit flatly, and it was true, World War Two dozens of meetings and occasionally being sat on put aside. "Thank you very much."

"You're not very big at all," Italy said with a pout, more than invading Canada's personal space as he lifted Matthew's shirt a bit and peeked under, asking permission only after the fact.

Germany loudly cleared his throat, looking pointedly at his intrusive boyfriend. "Italy, that is rude." He pulled the nation back by his shirt. "I am terribly sorry, Canada, he has just been excited about the baby."

Quickly pulling his shirt down and pretending that his cheeks weren't burning, he chuckled. "It's all right. I understand. Al- America's the same way."

"Ludwig," Italy whined, "I want to see. I'm sure Ca... Canada? I'm sure Canada is excited, too! If I were having a baby, I'd want to look at my tummy all the time. I might _never _wear clothes!"

"You never do as it is. Go upstairs and put some pants on." Ludwig instructed, and practically had to push the excitable brunet up the stairs. Once back he sat on the chair, steeping his fingers. "Now, as I am sure Gilbert has not mentioned this, I have several degrees in medicine." He ignored Prussia's eye role and continued. "Of course, none of them involved your unique condition, but I have been doing some studies and made some assumptions for things you may expect, being a male."

Gilbert groaned, putting his head in his hands. "He hasn't been here five minutes and you're talking medical! _Gott,_ West, can't you do some small talk or something?"

Matthew looked back and forth between the brothers and decided to just focus on the younger for the time being. "Assumptions?" he inquired with a curious tilt of his head. "Uh, well, France and England were telling me about it when I first found out... They said something was going to form... a birth canal, I think? But I'm not really sure what that means."

"Yes, I asked around the older nations, and you will form a birth canal, most likely within the last month of pregnancy. But the assumptions I have made have been based on the male body. For example, your pelvic bone is shaped differently that a woman's. Because of this, to accommodate the child, I believe the bone will be forced to reshape itself, which unfortunately I believe would be fairly painful." Ludwig sighed as Feliciano came back down, this time fully clothed, and sat on his lap. "There is another chair right beside me."

"You're always saying that," Italy said, leaning back against his lover. He looked around the room and frowned, puzzled. "Hey... where did Canada go?"

"So you think my bones are going to change?" Matthew asked, trying to ignore the sinking feeling he always got when somebody couldn't see him. He'd only been around people that could for the past few months; he was getting too used to it. "Or do you think they're just gonna move?"

Ludwig rubbed his temple at Feliciano's idiocy. "That, I cannot be sure. Even with women their pelvic bone does change with birth, but yours will have to go through a more drastic change. It could be that you just experience longer contractions."

Canada grimaced. So either way he was in an excruciating amount of pain. But it wasn't only that. Germany was suggesting an entire change in his body, his internal structure and his very bones. Turning his dark eyes up to Germany he asked, "So what exactly have you heard about the, um... the birth canal... thing?"

At this the muscular nation looked to the other two in the room. "About that, I think it would be best to talk in private." He would have to say some words that he would not trust Feliciano and Gilbert to not giggle at.

While he didn't act like it, Feliciano did understand and frequently responded to a certain few of Ludwig's tones. He pushed himself up and grabbed Prussia's hand, pulling him off the couch. "I found a nest in the backyard the other day, and I think the eggs have hatched!"

When they were far enough away, Germany sat forward in his seat. "The birth canal is how the baby will come out. In other words, a vaginal canal. As I said, my understanding is that one will start to develop the month before the birth. It will go away again after the birth, I am not sure how long that will take but you should not be able to tell it was there at all."

Matthew balked, his face losing nearly every bit of color. His mouth opened and closed for a time and finally, some semblance of noise squeaked out. "W-wait... You think I'm going to completely..."

"You will still be a man. You're penis will remain, but yes you will completely have a vagina. Now, to be safe, I would suggest that when it opens, you check it's development at least once a week. If there is a problem, then I will have to come and perform a cesarean section. Do not worry, if that happens I will be fully prepared to perform."

That was a rather generous, if overbearing offer. Matthew really didn't know how to process all of this at the moment. A rather grotesque image of everything he'd ever known about his nether regions becoming a black, soul-sucking hole somewhere in his lower abdomen flitted through his mind. It was almost too much and he began to feel sick. He supposed he could just get used to the idea of never having sex ever again out of utter shame. Against his better judgment, he asked, "... are there any more... assumptions?"

Germany thought for a moment, sitting back in the chair. "Those are the major ones. There are little things. For instance, you may experience more back pain because you are not built as a woman, hips as well. Oh, and as many people as I have asked, no one has been able to say if the pregnant male nations were able to lactate or not. I suppose it is not something they would talk about. It is possible for a man to lactate under extreme conditions, but what is produced is not so much milk, as it is an unspecified fluid. But with formula these days, it shouldn't be a problem if you do not produce milk." Besides that, he couldn't think of any other anomalies.

Matthew's stomach gave a little roll. He had thought that the slight... roundness of his breast tissue in recent weeks was on account of the baby weight. It was surreal to imagine, but he supposed it shouldn't have been; he was a male and he was pregnant. On the inside something had changed anatomically since the beginning; why shouldn't it stand to reason that slowly, the rest of his body would change? Canada tried to let this odd and flimsy logic comfort him. "Ah... well, thank you. I guess we'll- er. I'll have to start preparing."

Ludwig gave a tight nod, looking forward to the future. "I believe I shall write a paper on it, in case another male country gets pregnant. So if you would, please keep me updated. How did you first find out you were with child?"

"Huh? Um..." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, that was back at the spring meeting. I was pretty sick for a bit, and I didn't know why; my economy wasn't the greatest, but it was stable, and nothing was really going on. England was the first to know- _the _first. As in, he's the one who told _me_." It was then that he realized that he was telling all this to Ludwig, just as he'd recounted to Alfred. France knew as the other nation present during that scarring moment in time. The only person he hadn't told was the father himself. A smidgen of guilt gnawed at him. "His, um... his fairies were the ones to tell him."

He gave a nod, and made a mental note that he would have to see if there are any other early warning signs for men, because he was sure there wouldn't always be a person there who could talk to fairies.

A moment of uncomfortable silence commenced and with thoughts swarming in his head that were less than pleasant, Matthew stood. "So, um, thank you for... that, but I'm pretty tired. I'm gonna head back to the hotel now."

Germany offered a curt farewell, and just as the other two returned from bird-viewing, the front door clicked closed.

Gilbert smacked his brother over the head. "See? You scared him off with your medical talk!"

* * *

><p>The next day was spent much like the first, the only difference being that they had dinner with Germany and Italy. They had pasta, not much of a surprise. Gilbert was disappointed that his days of showing off his land was over, and for the rest of the trip it would be boring meetings. Not that he would really be in the meetings for the most part, but apparently they were going to have some time discussing the new baby, so he, as the father, had to be there.<p>

Not surprisingly, even though the meeting hall was abuzz with excitement about the pregnant nation, nobody actually _saw _him. It was most unfortunate for them, because he was sitting right at the table the entire time, organizing his notes as European nations walked right by, chattering about a new baby, what part of the world it could be, and why absolutely none of them could remember who was having it.

Twelve minutes past the time it was set to start, everyone was seated and Germany stood up. "I would like to welcome you all..." Which commenced the very long and very boring speeches that only half of the nations payed attention to.

The meeting went on with Canada sitting between his brother and Greenland, who didn't talk much. He paid attention, scribbled down notes and nibbled on some dried fruit from his bag that England had given him prior to the meeting when he was feeling hungry. America, of course, did none of these things (save for snagging a couple of crunchy pieces of dried banana every so often) and Canada made mental plans to find a copy machine before the day was through to give to him.

The only truly exciting part of the first half of the meeting was when Cuba tried to punch America for once again calling him a commie. But once he was restrained and Alfred was given a stern talking to, the nations easily resumed listening, or in some cases, napping.

By the time the first half of the meeting was over and Germany called for a break, Canada thought he was about to burst. Detaching himself from America's side, he raced to the bathroom for relief.

After washing his hands he stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway with a sigh that was very suddenly cut short by a hand roughly shoving him against a wall by his throat. Canada gasped, his eyes wide as they stared into a furious, dark and familiar face. "Cuba!" he squeaked.

"Don't act fucking innocent, America! You know how much I hate you calling me that!" The large tanned nation threw a punch directed at the blond's face, but the coward ducked and his fist hit the wall. "Fuck! Face me like a man!"

"Cuba, stop!" he said, too shaken to do anything more than let instinct take over. He couldn't run; Cuba was faster, and he couldn't just wait and try to explain between punches that he wasn't America, because his stomach was well acquainted with that fist, and right now it wasn't an option. He turned and faced the wall, curling over his stomach with his arms wrapped protectively around it. But the man wasn't listening, too engulfed with rage. A hand on his collar, Cuba spun him around, forcing him to look at him and hopefully fight back a bit.

Prussia came around the corner, figuring he would be right on time for the baby bit in the meeting, but his eyes went wide as he witnessed the scene before him. Gilbert's feet started running before he even knew what was happening, and in seconds he had traversed the long hallway, barreling right into Cuba. Just in time too;it had looked like he was going to punch Canada in the stomach. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" When the southern nation started getting up, a bewildered look on his face, Prussia punched him in the chin for good measure, then got up and went to Matthew, who was kneeling on the floor, clutching his stomach. "Oh God, Matt, are you alright? Shit, that bastard didn't hit your belly, did he?"

Cuba's brown eyes widened. Oh shit, that was really Canada? Oh shit, shit shit... what had he done?

Canada flinched when Gilbert touched him, arms curling tightly about himself. "N-no, I'm f-fine," he said, the tremor in his voice a direct result of his shaken nerves. Cuba had come so close to... to... It was too horrific to even begin to imagine and he covered his mouth with one hand, feeling sick.

But Gilbert... Gilbert had saved the baby. He turned wide eyes to the man.

The tanned nation got off the floor and hesitantly walked towards them. "Matthew, I... I'm sorry... I didn't know..."

But he didn't have a chance to finish his stuttered apology as Gilbert whirled around and pinned him with a red eyed stare. "Haven't you done enough? Fuck off and don't you dare come back!" Then he turned back to Matthew before he could even see Cuba walk away with his head hung. "He didn't hurt you, did he? Well obviously he did, but not... there?"

Matthew shook his head hesitantly. "Thanks to you," he breathed, shuddering when the albino touched his shoulder. "I thought... oh my gosh." His breath hitched and he brushed the hair away from his face with a shaky hand. "I couldn't think. If you hadn't been here, I..."

The Prussian shook his head, grabbing Matthew's shaking hands. "It's alright, you're fine, the baby's fine Matt. You did a good job protecting him. Don't worry, I'll make sure to stay with you for the rest of the meetings, alright? Make sure nothing like that happens again."

Canada just nodded, squeezing Prussia's hands until his knuckles were white.

After a few moments of Prussia's patience in letting Canada get a grip of himself, they made their way out of the meeting hall and grabbed lunch with Germany and Italy. Though he told himself he should, Canada had difficulty releasing Prussia's hand and only did so just after their food was placed before them at the table.

They went to the meeting after, and spent an hour listening to West talk about the baby, and how it would effect the economy, and made it all sound really boring. At one point Matthew had to stand up to talk, but it seemed like everyone was looking around for him, so Gilbert had to stand up beside him before he was noticed.

Just as promised, Prussia stayed with Matthew (excluding the bathroom) until he left him at the door of his hotel room. "Alright, I'll come pick you up in the morning, so try not to leave this room, because I heard that Cuba is staying in the same hotel."

Matthew nodded and thanked Gilbert quietly before closing the door behind him with a sigh. He made his way to the shower and once under the hot spray, he stroked his taut, rounded stomach with a shaky breath. "You're turning me into a nervous wreck, you know that?"

Twenty minutes later he stepped out and dressed himself, pausing in brushing his teeth when he heard a knock at the hotel door. Quickly rinsing his mouth he stepped out and to the door, peeking through the peephole. _Shit._

"I'm Canada!" he yelled so that the dark-skinned nation beyond the door could hear him.

Cuba visibly winced. "Yeah, I know, I came to apologize. I promise, Matthew, I won't hit you." He had been feeling horrible the whole day, and finally couldn't stand it any longer.

Canada was nervous. With the door between them, nothing could go wrong. But Cuba had said that he wanted to apologize, and if that was true, then there was nothing for Matthew to worry about... right? He worried his bottom lip and slowly opened the door just a crack, peeking through the little space. "I'm Canada," he reiterated cautiously.

"I know. I'm serious. When I'm not angry at America I can tell the difference. I am so sorry, Matthew, I... I can't believe I did that." He leaned heavily against the door frame, brown eyes filled with emotion. "Um... could I come in? I won't... hurt you, don't worry."

Matthew opened the door for him then. He knew that his friend could differentiate him from his brother when he wasn't blinded by rage, but the memory of that afternoon was fresh in his mind, and while he was willing to grant the Cuban his trust, it did have its limit.

He waited until Canada stepped away from the door before he went inside. "Um... I didn't really hurt you, did I? Like not the- oh my God the baby, I am so sorry Matthew. I swear, I had no idea that it was you."

Matthew subconsciously rubbed his shoulder that Cuba had bruised. "The baby's fine," he said with a little smile. "I know you wouldn't hurt _me, _Ismael. And I appreciate your apology."

He gave a small, if sad smile. "I wish I could do more to apologize though... Is there anything you need? Anything at all? We could, ah, go out for ice cream or something. If you wanted to. I went to a really good place last night that isn't far from here..."

Matthew's eyes widened, and before he could even think about it, "Yes," was already out of his mouth. He cleared his throat at Cuba's look of surprise, cheeks coloring. "Uh... I haven't really been _allowed _ice cream lately, which would be fine if the baby didn't crave it constantly. So yes. Please."

"Oh, is it bad for the baby or something?" How could ice cream be bad for anything?

Canada shrugged. "Beats me, but everyone's been holding out on me and it hasn't been fun."

Ismael gave a laugh at that, finally feeling a little bit better. "Well, then we should get going. Don't want to keep the future mother from his ice cream, do we? Um, grab a jacket, it's a bit chilly out there now."

Canada complied, slipping on a heavy sweater before he followed Cuba out of the room. "Father," he corrected with a wry smile as they walked to the elevator.

"But you're the one who's pregnant. I would consider that the mother, wouldn't you?" He wasn't loud enough for the humans to hear him, always very careful about that. It would be difficult to explain why he was calling a man pregnant.

Canada blinked. "I've never really thought about it that way before," he said thoughtfully. "I guess the terms don't _have _to be gender specific just because they always are... But even so, I think I'd rather be called 'Daddy' than 'Mommy' any day. Wearing dresses to birthing classes is bad enough," he chuckled.

That made the Cuban raise an eyebrow. "Birthing classes? You have to go to those? Will it really be the same as for girls?" It seemed strange to think that he would be able to use the same techniques, but what did he know?

"Yeah... apparently I'm, uh..." He cleared his throat. "Well. According to new information, my anatomy's going to change." Canada grimaced. "Completely. Ugh."

"Oh? Well, I guess it would have to. That makes sense right?" They left the hotel, and the ice cream shop was only a block away, so they got there in a few minutes. Once up at the counter, Ismael looked at the selection. "What do you want? And I'm paying, so don't worry about getting like a triple scoop or something like that."

Matthew's mouth watered as he gazed upon all of the sinfully delightful-sounding flavors. His thumb brushed against the underside of his belly as one in particular called out to him. From spending time with Gilbert he understood enough German to know that one was carrot-flavored and ordered a double scoop of it in slow, probably broken German.

Cuba got two scoops of chocolate, as usual, and looked at Matthew's strange choice. "Carrot? Really? Man, I guess what they say about cravings is true then." He looked around for a seat, but they were all full in the small parlor, so Ismael suggested they eat outside.

Taking the cone in his hand Matthew agreed, and after a few minutes of walking "eating outside" had turned into a pleasant stroll around the park near their hotel. The path in the park was lined with lights to illuminate the dark night, and Matthew made contented noises as the delicious carrot-flavored ice cream hit the spot. He brushed a bit off his chin when it dribbled down and chuckled. "It's been way too long."

"That's so weird that they don't let you have ice cream. How about every week I'll send you a little bit that you can hide away in the fridge and eat in the night?" Ismael gave a laugh, licking up a drip of his own cone.

Canada laughed right back, shaking his head. "That sounds so scandalous, but you tempt me, you do." He nudged Cuba in the side. "But enough of seducing me with your grand promises of frozen goods. How are you?"

"Mm, well besides beating up my best friend today, I'm not doing too bad," Cuba said, looking at him, walking side by side. How much he wished they could be more than friends though.

Matthew grimaced. "You've really got to work on your anger problems," he said with a little glance out of the corner of his eye. "At least while there's a little person in me."

He groaned, putting his head in his hand. "I had been doing so well too! Haven't mistaken you for your brother in years! I thought I was getting better at telling you guys apart, even when I was angry." He looked back at the incident, and thought how glad he was that Prussia had been there to stop him.

"Well, at least you see me at all," Matthew chuckled, finally down to the rim of his cone. He took little nibbles of it before the chill of the ice cream began to hurt his teeth, and he went back to licking. "When I'm back to being unpregnant, I won't blame you. Alfred and I have the same face, essentially."

"Different hair though. I notice when I'm calm..." Wanting to change the subject, Ismael tried to think of something else. "So, how are you and Prussia working out? You seemed pretty close when he, uh, saved you."

"Working out?" Matthew repeated quizzically. "Well, he's staying at my house. Germany kicked him out, so now he's..." Trying to pick and choose his words carefully, Matthew scrunched up his nose. "He's fulfilling his duty."

Cuba was confused for a moment, then looked at him. "You mean you two aren't... like, together? But he's the father, and you're living together. I thought..."

"Yeah," Canada murmured. "Yeah. Common misconception. We were never _together. _But he considers it to be his duty to help take care of this... this 'national pride' thing, and I don't want my child growing up only half knowing their father. I can't imagine it being a healthy thing, only seeing glimpses and instances of someone who's supposed to love you more than anything in the world."

"Oh." Cuba looked to the ground, realizing that they had at some point stopped walking. "Are you alright with that? It seems like a pretty strange relationship. Living together, raising a child together, but not actually _being _together. Doesn't it bother you?"

Matthew licked his lips and thought on it for a moment. "Not... not as much as being in a loveless relationship would," he answered quietly. "The most we ever had to our relationship was sex and pancakes, and if a child is involved, that's just not good enough." His lips twisted into a bitter sort of grin. "I can imagine it now. 'My dads sleep in the same room, but sometimes one of them has a lady over and sleeps in a different one with her.'"

Ismael frowned, eyebrows knit together. "That's... wow. But aren't you... you know, lonely? I mean, all better for the kid, but you have to think about yourself too."

"Oh no," he answered. "I have Kumaporo and Alfred, so... oh." He laughed. "Yeah, that's sad. I've got a polar bear and my brother. They're good company, if that's any consolation, but maybe it just makes me more pathetic."

But Cuba didn't laugh. He lightly put his hand on Matthew's arm, bringing him to face him. "You know... _I_ wouldn't cheat on you. It... it would be more than sex, way more."

It took a moment before the words registered and his eyes went wide. It wasn't until a drip of cold melted ice cream his his hand that he shook himself awake. "Ismael..." He saw the darkening of Cuba's cheeks and grew a little red himself.

Ismael bit his lip and turned away. "Sorry. God, I really shouldn't be saying something like that the same day that I beat you up. And I swear this wasn't the reason I came to your room tonight, I had just though that, shit, I don't know..."

Neither did Matthew, really, but he hadn't meant to make his friend uncomfortable. He reached out with his unsticky hand and touched Cuba's palm. "I was just surprised," he said slowly, leaning over so he could meet Cuba's unfocused gaze. "I, uh... I'm not exactly used to... this."

"Not used to what? Having a friend awkwardly ask you out? Well I must say, I'm not used to being the one doing the asking out either." Cuba tugged on one of his dread locks absentmindedly, a thing he was used to doing when under stress.

Matthew laughed a little at that, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, that. Being asked at all, really. I'm more used to drunken, 'Nice shoes, let's fuck' kinda things when I'm seen at all. Er." He blushed. "That's too much information. Sorry about that."

He laughed a bit. "Well, don't worry, you won't get anything like that from me." Ismael looked down, but then looked back up at him quickly. "But, if I'm going to do this, might as well do it properly and get rejected cleanly. Would you go out with me?"

Matthew regarded him quietly. Cuba could easily be considered his best friend if Alfred was put into the "brother" category. They had some things in common, and Cuba was kind enough to invite him over on a great many occasions. Even if he sometimes mistook him for Alfred, he did see him, and he was probably the only person Canada had ever met that actually listened when he had something to say. That had to mean something, right? And besides... Matthew could admit to himself that he _was _sort of lonely... okay, really lonely. And if Gilbert could go out and sleep with people willy-nilly, why couldn't he have someone steady to be there with him as a partner? Wouldn't that be the best for the baby, too? If Matthew could be loved, then wouldn't that be a good example for the child?

He swallowed. Besides, Gilbert was bound to leave eventually. He couldn't expect him to stay forever, and then what? Cuba was willing... more than willing, apparently, to be with Canada, and that was a phenomenon he hadn't experienced in a very, very long time. "... I... I think I might like that quite a bit," he answered with a little smile.

The smile Cuba gave showed off his very white teeth. "Really? Oh my God, you don't know how long I've wanted to ask you. Are you sure you're alright with it, though? I want you to be sure." Even though he said that, Ismael had already grabbed Matthew's non-sticky hand and held it.

Canada laughed and leaned over, brushing a kiss over Cuba's lips. He had wanted to be with Matthew. Matthew was wanted for more than sex and food. That was new. That was a _good_ new. "I'm sure."


	11. Chapter 11

In the morning, Gilbert went to pick Matthew up like he said he would. After all, he was still worried that the same guy would once again mistake him for America. Or, even that someone else might; after all, there were plenty of countries who would love to beat that guy up.

To his surprise, though, the tan nation, one in the same, was in Matthew's room when he opened the door. Canada's laughing smile sobered just a bit. "Good morning," he said, straightening his own tie. "Would you like to get breakfast with us?"

Gilbert raised his arm and pointed at Cuba. "What the hell is he doing here? Matt, this guy almost killed your baby yesterday! And now you're going to get breakfast with him?" This was _so_ unawesome.

Canada could practically feel the Cuban on the edge of his bed wince and lifted his hands. "He apologized, Gil. He mistook me for Alfred. He's actually much better at differentiating between us now than he used to be. But yes, breakfast. We were thinking bagels, but you would know what's best in Berlin, right?" He gave the albino a pleading little smile. _Please don't freak out. Please just be nice_.

The albino crossed his arms over his chest, looking the island nation up and down. "I'll come with you," he said simply. He had promised to not leave Matthew alone for the rest of the trip, especially now that he was hanging around the guy who beat him up.

The bright smile returned and he pulled Gilbert inside while he finished putting on his suit. He glanced over at the albino in the mirror. "Are you going to the meeting today or are you staying at your brother's house?"

Still watching the Cuban out of the corner of his eye, Prussia sat down on the chair. "I'll come to the meeting. Wouldn't want anything to happen if I wasn't there."

At that, Ismael stood up rather suddenly, startling everyone as he walked over to Gilbert. But instead of rising to the challenge of those words with anger, he held out his hand. "I would like to thank you for stopping me yesterday. I can only hope that I would have realized who it was before anything bad happened, but I am glad you were there."

Gilbert shook the hand with only a little hesitation. "Oh, alright. Um, you're welcome then." He had never before been thanked for running a man down, but it was a nice, if unusual, feeling.

Canada felt a deep affection for both of the men behind him swim in his chest and he couldn't put a stopper on his grin no matter how hard he tried. He just shook his head and turned, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "If you two are done being sweet, let's get that breakfast. I'm feeling pretty content, but there's this weird growth inside me that never wants me to stop eating."

They went to a restaurant down the street, the opposite direction from where the ice cream parlour had been. For the whole walk there, Cuba and Gilbert were talking about race cars and beer. Matthew rolled his eyes and was grateful that, though the baby's ears had developed so much that it could hear the conversation, its brain wasn't so far in development that it could make heads or tails of the ridiculous things the two other men were saying.

Breakfast took about an hour with how much those two talked. It made Matthew very happy to see Gilbert actually getting along with someone, since for awhile it had seemed that he was in a constant bad mood, the two days touring around Germany an exception.

The walk to the meeting hall was just as pleasant and Matthew felt an odd sort of happiness that he hadn't experienced in quite some time. Gilbert was finally getting along with someone Matthew knew. Maybe that meant he was getting over his bitterness and inferiority? Canada hoped that the good mood would continue even when they left Germany.

The last day of meetings went fairly smoothly. America didn't throw anymore insults at Cuba, and Gilbert kept mostly quiet during the whole thing, even though he kept flying paper airplanes all around the room. The look on Germany's face as one hit his head and stuck to his hair could have curdled milk.

But it was overall very normal. It didn't go smoothly by any means, but that was what made it normal. After his late night the day prior, though, Canada was very sleepy and declined an invitation from Cuba to go out for a drink once the meeting had adjourned. "Pregnant, remember?" he chuckled, sticking his papers neatly into their folder.

"A drink could be something non-alcoholic. You drink juice right?" The dark nation smiled, taking Matthew's hand in his. "But I guess it would be easier to resist temptation if you didn't go. So what time is your flight tomorrow?"

Matthew flexed his fingers, not sure if he had been ready for the sudden touch. He cleared his throat, wondering why on earth that mattered. "Too early for my liking. It leaves at six in the morning, so we have to be out the door by four to make it through security and baggage and whatnot." He groaned. "Oh man. I don't know how I'm going to survive without caffeine in my bloodstream at such an ungodly hour."

Cuba laughed and held his hand tighter, misunderstanding the movement. "Well, my flight on only an hour later. I could meet you there if you want? We could... well I could have a coffee, you could have something else."

Canada felt his lower lip protrude very nearly of its own accord. "That's the most unreasonable thing you've ever said," he sulked. "How about we both have coffee and no one has to know?"

"If you're not supposed to have ice cream, I really doubt coffee would be good for you," Ismael said, laughing quietly. "Just remember, your baby will be all the more healthy for it."

Matthew grumbled, elbowing Cuba in the side. "How do you live with yourself and all of your logic?" he complained, wistfully remembering a time where Gilbert would offer him a cup and _he_ had been the one to decline.

Cuba walked him to the door of his hotel room, having convinced Gilbert that he was in good hands. "Well, we'd better get to sleep if we're waking up that early."

Matthew agreed and turned to say goodnight only to be surprised by Cuba being far closer than he expected. His immediate reaction was to jump back, eyes wide. But when Cuba seemed to hesitate in regret himself, Matthew tried to shake the initial shock and smiled, touching the prickly jaw of his... lover? Friend with benefits? "Sorry, you just surprised me," he chuckled, granting Cuba the kiss he had been after. Canada closed his eyes as the thick, dark arms wound tight around him. Ismael tasted exactly as he smelled: rich and smoky, like his cigars. His lips were soft and gentle, but it was the strangest thing; all Matthew could think about was exactly how tightly he was being held and the scent of tobacco, all in regards to the baby. Was Cuba squishing the child? Could you inhale secondhand smoke at a detrimental level through scent alone?

After a few seconds, he let go and stepped back, a grin on his face. "Man, I could get used to that. Well, I guess I'll see you in the morning?" Already, he was already making plans for when he could visit the great northern country next.

Canada smiled and nodded in agreement, waving Cuba off as he made his way down the hall. Once the man had disappeared into an elevator Matthew instantly dropped into his bed, only taking the time to shuck his shoes and jacket before burrowing under the clean covers. It was only about seven in the evening, but he was just so tired... "Oh, crap," he mumbled to himself, and with a groan Matthew rolled over, snagging his phone off the bedside table, replacing it with his glasses. Pressing a number on the speed dial, he waited and waited until finally the line clicked... only to send him to voicemail.

"It's me," he mumbled into the receiver, "We have t' be out of here by four. In the morning. I suggest you sleep here tonight if you don't wanna wake up earlier and drive over t' get me. Don't call me back, I'll prolly be asleep. Just ask the r'ceptionish for a key. I'll make sure she knows to give it to you. G'night."

He hung up and sighed, fumbling for the hotel phone next. It was just too much work taking care of Prussia.

* * *

><p>Gilbert got the message a little after eleven o'clock. He swore under his breath, grabbed his stuff, scribbled a little note to Germany, and was out the door. At the hotel, the receptionist had no problem giving him a key, saying he matched Matthew's description perfectly. (When asked, she gave the description, "Pale and will try to flirt with you." Gilbert was almost ashamed at his own predictability.)<p>

Matthew was sprawled out on the bed. He sighed and tried rearranging his limbs without waking him up. Finally he was able to crawl in beside him, and wondered just how much coffee he would have to have to get through the next morning, as hurried as it promised to be.

* * *

><p>Feeling terribly refreshed from such a long night's sleep, Matthew had no qualms at all with reaching out and turning off the alarm clock. He supposed he should have been more surprised to find someone in his bed, but with all of Alfred's ninja-like late night excursions, Francis' occasional drunken flights on his private jet, and Kumajiro in his cuddly moods, he really couldn't find it in himself to be startled by the warm body beside him. Judging by the paleness of the toned back and the shock of white hair, though, he'd have to say that Gilbert must have received his message.<p>

And judging by the loud groan of protest, he'd probably received it a little late in the evening.

"Wake up, sleepyhead." Canada shook him by the shoulder before hopping out of bed and pulling out a pair of comfortable clothes from his suitcase and slipping into the bathroom for a quick pre-flight shower.

It took ten minutes for Prussia to actually get out of bed, and another ten minutes to get up and put the coffee maker on. He was determined to not do anything till he had at least two cups warming his belly.

Ten minutes later, Canada made his way out of the bathroom and was greeted by a very groggy Prussian hunched over the miniature counter and the scent of cheap hotel coffee permeating the air. He couldn't help but smile. "Shower's open," he announced, patting Gilbert on the back.

He just got a grunt in reply, but then Gilbert turned around and shoved him a little. "And what the hell was with that description of me last night?"

Canada blinked, trying to remember. Then it clicked and he had to cover his mouth and scrunch his brow to hide the laugh that was fighting to break free. "I, uh... I was really tired. I must have just blurted the first thing to come to mind. Anyway it worked, didn't it?"

Gilbert huffed and drank his coffee. Seeing Matthew's eyes follow the cup, he smirked and held it out before him. "Smells good doesn't it? I bet you want some. But you can't have any." Normally he didn't care about that, but he wanted to get back at Canada for last night.

Canada just rolled his eyes. "We'll see about that," he answered, folding his dirty clothes and stuffing them in his suitcase. He had designs on the airport Starbucks that no mortal man could ever hope to fathom.

After his second cup, Gilbert got up and went to have a quick shower, and got dressed. He was pretty much all packed from the day before, thanks to Ludwig, so they left for the airport fairly quickly. "Thank God I can sleep on the plane."

"You knew we were leaving early," Matthew chastised. He ignored Gilbert's mumbling answer and made a beeline for the sleepy but bubbly receptionist to turn in his keys, and a moment later he jumped upon feeling a large hand on his lower back.

Cuba grinned at him. "Good morning. It looks like you had a good sleep. Good thing too, it's way too early." He handed in his own key and grabbed one of Matthew's bags. "I got it, don't worry."

"I'm not a waif," Matthew half-pretended to complain, making a genuine grab for the luggage. But Cuba snatched it away and he sighed resignedly. "Come on, Gilbert. Don't fall asleep against the sliding glass door."

The albino opened his eyes and blinked a few times. When did Cuba get there? Oh well. After the previous day's excursion, he didn't really see a problem with the guy. That was, until he saw how close those two were walking... and was Ismael carrying Matthew's bag?

"You're awfully quiet," Canada commented during the drive to the rental place. Cuba was following behind in his own rental. He glanced over at the sleepy albino before focusing back on the road.

"Just tired. And is it just me, or does Cuba seem to be clinging to you? I bet he's still trying to make up for mistaking you for America." He slumped back in the seat, taking his hat off and putting it over his eyes.

Canada chose not to answer that and thankfully a moment later Prussia began to snore.

He shook him awake for what felt like the hundredth time when they'd arrived at the rental shop and grabbed his bags before the Cuban in the space two down from his could.

Gilbert went off in search of more coffee while Cuba tried to convince Matthew to let him carry his bag again. It didn't work out so well. They went to wait in line to check in, and Ismael grabbed his hand.

Once again, Canada couldn't help but feel a bit of what must have been surprise. He looked up at Cuba's face and then down at their hands and his brow furrowed. It wasn't unpleasant in the least. It was just... strange.

... If the look on the face of the gentleman taking their keys was anything to go by, anyway.

They still had about an hour before they could do anything, so Cuba took Matthew to one of the restaurants and ordered two milk shakes. "I won't tempt you by having coffee. That would be mean."

"You don't have to tempt me," he said when the middle-aged German woman slid the shakes over. He kept his eyes out the window for the Prussian that they had more or less abandoned in the great big place. "I plan to get some anyway."

Ismael's smile wavered a little. "But I thought it was bad? You don't want to have any problems." He knew that America France and England were fairly strict with Matthew's diet, and he didn't want any of them to hate him for letting him have coffee.

He glanced over at the dark-skinned man and cracked a smile. "Hundreds of thousands of perfectly healthy births take place every week. It's happened for thousands of years. I'm sure at one point or twelve that the mothers drank coffee during the pregnancy."

"Well I'm sure, but they used to smoke when women were pregnant, and tons of the babies didn't have any problems. Same with drinking! What if they just haven't found out how bad coffee is," Ismael reasoned, taking a sip of his milkshake.

Matthew's smile grew a little thin. "The same could be said about anything," he grumbled, sipping at the drink. He wrinkled his nose and his mouth twisted into a grimace that he quickly hid a split second later. Apparently the baby wasn't in the mood for sweets, because the perfectly good milkshake was a little too powerful for him.

Cuba didn't notice, and continued talking happily. A few minutes later Gilbert found them and sat down with his coffee and looked at their glasses. "Milkshakes? Really? Why don't you two share a straw? 'Cause you totally look like you're going out on a date."

Ismael opened his mouth to say that they pretty much _were_ on a date, but was interrupted by Canada. "Want to try?" he asked, holding his cup out to Prussia. "Sorry we lost track of you. I was just getting worried that you might have wandered off and fallen asleep on the runway or something."

Taking the glass, Gilbert sipped from it. "No, I should be good for a while now. Still sleeping on the plane though." He tried to give it back, but could tell that Matthew really didn't want it from the look on his face, so he kept drinking.

"And miss all the exciting clouds?" Matthew chuckled, turning back to Cuba. "How about you? Planning a long, fantastic nap?"

"Probably, yeah." It was a long flight, after all. It would be ridiculous to want to stay awake for the whole thing. Ismael sipped on his chocolate milkshake, wondering why Matthew didn't seem to want his, but not wanting to press the issue.

"Not if you're drinking coffee," he said coolly, glancing out the glass wall at the passersby. "I mean, with coffee you could definitely handle the flight home."

Cuba chuckled, and held up his glass. "Well this isn't coffee. I had one cup this morning, but that won't stop me from sleeping on the plane." Since Prussia was sitting on Matthew's side of the table so he wouldn't see, Ismael brushed Canada's foot with his, tangling them together under the table.

Unfortunately, Canada wasn't prepared for the forward action and reacted with a violent jump and a blush. He didn't notice that his actions had jostled Gilbert until a loud curse was issued right near his ear.

Gilbert looked down at his lap, completely covered with the pink milkshake. "_Verdammt_! Oh god, it's so cold!" Right on his junk too. That wasn't a good place to be freezing.

Matthew could only stare at him in horror before he scrambled over Gilbert, carefully so as not to dirty himself, and stumbled over to the counter where the woman was peering over in vague amusement. He snatched a fistful of napkins and jumped back to Gilbert, falling to his knees beside the German and wiping away the pink from his lap thoughtlessly while Prussia tried to clean his hands. "Sorry, sorry, sorry!" was his ongoing, fervent mantra.

Both men stared in surprise as Matthew tried to clean up his lap. It was when he started dabbing pretty much right above his cock that Gilbert grabbed the napkins himself. "Uh, I can do it, it's fine Matt."

Cuba looked away, telling himself that Matthew was just trying to be helpful, it was normal for him. It did help to make the situation a little less jealousy-inducing and a little more humorous.

Matthew realized then exactly what he was doing and blushed a furious red. He hastily grabbed the cold wet napkins and deposited them in the trash, adamantly ignoring the German woman's little smirk.

After that they tried to make conversation, attempting to ignore what had just transpired. It was a relief when it was time to get ready to board the plane. Ismael hung back outside the gate with Canada to say his goodbyes. "Well, I'll come and visit lots. As many times as I can get away."

Matthew smiled and nodded, not quite hesitating but not quite jumping in enthusiastically when Cuba leaned over to steal a kiss. It was chaste, though Matthew could tell that what the Cuba really wanted was something a bit deeper. "Please do," he said, "and bring ice cream."

"Sure thing." He squeezed Matthew's hand, and then let go, watching him go through the door. Well, he had about an hour to kill now.

Matthew looked around for Gilbert, who had run in immediately to find the bathroom on the plane, and when he did not see him, Canada shrugged and took the window seat in their spacious aisle, settling in comfortably as others walked by.

A few minutes later, Prussia sat down beside him. "The downside of drinking a lot of coffee." He sighed, then laughed. "But I hear pregnant chicks go pee a lot anyway, so you'll have the problem even _without_ drinking coffee."

"Who said anything about not drinking coffee?" Matthew sniffed. Almost as if they had choreographed the timing to perfection, one of the pretty air hostesses leaned over Gilbert to hand a steaming cup to Matthew. "Thank you very much," he said with a wide smile and she returned it happily before walking away.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, and put his seat back. "I should take that away from you. Mostly because I want it. But I think I'm still going from my last cup." Which meant he wouldn't be having a nap for at least an hour. The seat belt sign flashed on.

Canada happily sipped his coffee through the announcements and the takeoff, a pleasant warmth running through his body. He sighed and closed his eyes, just breathing in the rich scent. Cherishing every moment of it, he immediately mourned his loss when the cup ran dry. It was no mystery why he touched the hostess' wrist and murmured his deepest gratitude when she asked if he wanted more. He must have accidentally turned on his Francis-taught charm, because the woman's eyes grew wide and she hastily pulled herself away, blushing and wobbling a bit as she hurried down the aisle.

The ride became smooth soon after she returned with a fresh cup (larger this time, he noticed with half happiness, half guilt) and when the announcements came back on, he took the phone from his back pocket and turned it on only to find three bored messages from Cuba waiting patiently for him in his inbox. He snorted and shook his head, replying instantly.

At the sound, Gilbert looked at him. That was probably the first time he had ever seen Canada texting. "Who are you talking to? It's America isn't it? You know it's really his fault you get beaten up by angry countries."

"It's Ismael," he said instantly, his eyes glued to the screen. He sent the second message after a few painstaking moments of thorough typing and set his phone down only to jolt when it immediately buzzed in his lap. He lifted it and read the next message, laughing a bit. Cuba had sent a silly picture of some Spanish childrens' book and translated the ridiculous title in the message.

For the next ten minutes, it seemed like Matthew was glued to his phone, giggling away like a schoolgirl with a crush. Gilbert was getting bored, and tired of watching how much fun Canada was having with his new best friend. He decided to start up a conversation about a topic he knew Matt couldn't resist. "So you're what, week 18 now? Anything exciting happen this week?"

Like a charm, Matthew's eyes shot up for the first time. He could feel his jaw drop. "I can't believe you know what week I'm in," he said after a moment before shaking his head. "But yes, actually. Lots of things are supposed to happen this week."

"Oh. Like what?" Was it really such a big surprise? After all, he had said what week he was that first baby class, and that had been about two weeks ago. He could do the math, after all. But he was still glad that Matthew was off the phone.

"Mm, well, like this week the baby starts to move more," he said, his voice lowering just slightly when a stewardess passed. "Just a bit. I should be able to feel it for the first time."

That was a surprise. Prussia looked at him, red eyes wide. "Really? Wow, that's... amazing. Have you felt anything?" For some reason he didn't think they could feel it until they were showing way more.

Matthew's smile diminished a bit. "Well... no, not yet. But I'm hoping to soon." He laid a hand on his belly. "They can yawn and hiccup and some make silly faces, even. And they can hear things now. Their ears transmit noises to the brain."

That made Gilbert pause a little. Yeah, he thought he may have heard the lady at the class say something about that... "Yeah, but it's inside your belly. So it probably can't really hear things, right?" He would imagine that it would be like being under water.

"Well," Canada said thoughtfully, "actually, they've already started to differentiate sounds. Voice recognition type of thing. It's amazing how quickly the brain develops."

"Oh." Gilbert felt a little apprehensive. So the baby was already listening to them? He had known that he wouldn't be able to swear or anything in front of the baby, but even when it was inside Canada?

Matthew smiled quizzically, his head tilted a bit out of curiosity. The look on Prussia's face was interesting to say the least. "Yeah. And they're moving their fingers and toes. Oh! And most fathers will start getting sympathy pains."

"What's a sympathy pain?" Oh shit, he was going to get pains? That wasn't cool! But it was still pretty awesome that they could move. It was so early, but they already had fingers that they could move?

"Like- oh for the love of Pete, Gil, stop looking so weirded out. You probably won't get any. It's basically when the father empathizes so well with the mother that he starts to feel her pain; he gets cravings and fatigued and his back starts hurting, often he'll get mood swings. That sort of thing."

Well that didn't sound good. But it probably wouldn't happen to him, like Matthew said. If he stopped talking about it, maybe the unwanted image of himself with a swollen belly would go away. "So, ah, is it weird to not feel any movement yet? Or is it just something that sometimes happens at week 18?"

"It's supposed to start happening. I don't think... well, I hope it's not weird that it hasn't started yet, but I'm sure it won't take long. Your kid shouldn't be able to _stop_ moving."

At that Gilbert stopped twitching his foot. "Shut up. Um, I mean, be quiet. Can I say shut up around the kid? It's not really a swear. And what about German swears?" They shouldn't count, should they? Well, unless he wanted to teach the kid German, which would be totally awesome.

Canada paused. Was Gilbert seriously initiating a discussion over the parenting of their child? "Well, I would assume you'd want the baby to learn German, so I'm gonna have to say no."

"Oh. Damn. Uh, I mean darn." Fuck, this was going to be hard. He was so used to swearing! Well, as long as he could still swear when not around the baby. Including when the baby was still in Matthew's stomach.

Chuckling quietly he shook his head. "At least you're making an effort." When the stewardess returned, Matthew held up his cup gratefully as she filled it with hot, rich coffee and lots of cream. "But those are the only things that come to mind at the moment."

Gilbert nodded and looked out the window. It... it was probably time for a nap.

* * *

><p>It was just a bad day. Canada hadn't been able to sleep the night before and he had woken up too early, for one thing. After spending a week indoors, he had come down with a major case of cabin fever. He was feeling fat and useless and his back was killing him, and Kumajiro had run all of the hot water so he couldn't take a bath to soak the pain for at least another hour. Matthew winced when he moved, bracing himself on the kitchen counter. To top it all off, he was starving and nothing in the house, nothing at all, appealed to him.<p>

Gilbert saw him walking funny, and knew that meant his back was bothering him. When Matthew laid down on the couch, he stood in front of it. "You can just ask me, you know. I'll get the pillows and you can lie face-down." After all, he had given him at least three back rubs since the first one.

"That sounds vaguely dirty," he mumbled irritably, curling up in a ball and hissing shortly as his spine protested. He wanted it; he really did. Gilbert's hands had worked absolute magic on him since he had discovered the albino's comfortable willingness to knead his back that first time. But now that he was dating Cuba, it just... it didn't feel right to let Gilbert touch him. Not that he had assumed it to be any sort of romantic gesture before. He just wasn't sure it was okay.

Prussia rolled his eyes and went to get some pillows. But when he went back into the living room, Matthew was still curled up in a ball. "Alright, arrange these how you want. You look like you're in a lot of pain. You should have asked me to do this a while ago."

"No." Matthew cringed. He swallowed. "Not.. not now. I'm angry and irritable and in so much pain that even just talking hurts. I haven't had any sleep and I'm hungry and fat and I d-don't want to be touched!" Which was a blatant lie. He wanted nothing more than to be cuddled and allowed to cry. But at that moment, he could only have one, and so he snatched one of the pillows in Gilbert's hands and pressed his face into it.

Prussia just paused, throwing the pillows on the chair. "All the more reason to let me give you a massage. It usually eases the pain in your back." He crouched down so he was actually looking Matthew in the eye. "And yeah, you're fat, but you're supposed to be!"

Canada sniffed and hid his eyes when they started to overflow. "You're not helping," he said , though it was a bit muffled by the pillow. He wanted the massage more than anything in the world, but it wouldn't be fair. He was dating Cuba. He had to think about Cuba's feelings, and he was sure that the dark nation wouldn't appreciate the father of Canada's child touching him in such a way. "I'll be fine. Just... I'll just take a nap." He peeked up, wiping the tears of frustration from his eyes. "I'm sorry for snapping at you."

Biting his lip, Gilbert stood up and turned away, knowing that if he was crying he wouldn't want anyone to see. "Well, alright. Maybe after you can have some ice cream or something. That always makes you feel better."

Canada laughed quietly and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch over himself. "That's what I thought. But we're all out. Imagine my disappointment, eh?"

"I'll go get some then. Anything else you want?" He knew that Matthew would refuse pain meds, even if they said they were safe for pregnant women, because he still didn't trust them.

"Anything. Everything." He winced as a little movement strained his spine. "Mmgh... t-tea. Some sort of tea that makes you sleep. Please."

Gilbert nodded and went to the door, grabbing his keys and a jacket. "I'll be back in like half an hour. Try to have a nap in that time." He wasn't sure what kind of tea made you sleep, but he supposed he could ask around.

"Thank you," Matthew called after him and deflated when he heard the front door close.

* * *

><p>Without Alfred to dictate his every move, Matthew's outfit was considerably less flashy on their trips to Lamaze class. For one, he wasn't wearing a dress; just a very large hockey jersey and the same skin-tight biking shorts that he had all of the times with Gilbert. He didn't wear any makeup, only applying a bit of Vaseline to his lips to give them a shine. But he did put his hair up, just in case, and clipped a thin chain around his neck for the effect of faux femininity. Nobody in the class seemed any the wiser and they were greeted pleasantly. Matthew took his spot on the floor by Gilbert but did not settle himself between his legs and in his arms like the majority of the other partners did. He had, though; once or twice, before Cuba. It had been awkward and different for both of them, but they had done it to keep up the ruse. He had done it easily with Alfred- there had been no choice in that matter, really. America just pulled him into his arms and held him, much to the delight of many of the women there.<p>

Had it not been for Matthew's strange behavior the last few days, Gilbert wouldn't really have noticed or minded. But he could definitely tell now that Canada was avoiding contact with him. Not that they were normally touchy-feely, far from it, but living with a person, you came into contact. Anything that could involve contact since they had come home from Germany, Matthew had been avoiding.

He wasn't stupid, though. He noticed the odd looks Gilbert gave him when the breathing exercises began, and every single couple in the room was being aided by their partners physically. He grimaced. There was no way out of it; even their instructor was beginning to give them funny glances. So he swallowed the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach and just went for it, scooting back until he was practically in Gilbert's lap on the little floor cushions, and began to follow instruction accordingly.

Gilbert was a little surprised, but soon put his hands on Canada's shoulders to help him. He started giving him a massage, because he could feel how tense Matthew was. "You alright?"

Canada flinched and made to move away, but realized he couldn't. It would be a terribly suspicious action and would raise more than a few brows. He didn't need anyone thinking Prussia was hurting him, so he hesitated, simply going a bit stiff. "Fine."

It was all pretty awkward, because Gilbert could tell that Matthew didn't want to be touching him, but it was pretty much necessary. Luckily, that day they weren't only doing breathing exercises. They were going to watch a movie about birth. The very thought filled Gilbert with a great deal of... excitement.

"Ladies and gents, the key to these techniques is relaxation. I can see that some of us aren't _quite_ relaxed."

Oh shit, Matthew thought.

"... So why don't we all lean back into our partners. They are here as our support through the most laborious, but also the most fantastic time in our lives. Lean on them. They are here for you."

_Balls, balls, dammit_, Canada cursed internally, but did as he was instructed, slowly forcing himself to deflate back against Gilbert's firm body.

Gilbert had no idea what to do with his hands. He tried putting them on the floor, but that was where Matthew had his, so it might like he wanted to hold hands. Instead, he settled for putting them on his rounded stomach, since he was usually allowed to touch there.

Canada's eyes widened exponentially and he looked over his shoulder at Gilbert, completely bewildered. The rate of his heartbeat hitched and began to race. Of course the albino had touched his stomach before- often times he would joke around, commenting on his girth, and Matthew would have been embarrassed had he not been busy soaking in the positive attention while he could. But it never failed to surprise him, and in a way, it was frighteningly intimate. He didn't know if he could pull away even if he wanted to if Prussia was touching him there.

When the teacher wasn't talking, Gilbert tried not to freak Canada out as he whispered, "So, have you felt him move yet? It's been about a week, right?" Would he be able to feel the baby move too? What if it kicked right now?

Matthew suppressed a shudder and unconsciously relaxed further into Gilbert's arms. "Not yet," he answered quietly, the usual discontentment leaking into his tone when he realized that it was true. Week nineteen had just begun, and he was still waiting. He tried not to think that something was wrong, but as each day passed in stillness, he grew a little more anxious.

"Oh. Well, I'm sure that's fine. You could ask the teacher if you're worried." But then they continued with relaxation advice, so they didn't get much chance to say anything more.

"The movie we're watching today is going to describe four types of massage to you and your partners," the older woman said gently, all smiles and mousy gray hair. "I would like all of our helpful, dear partners to try these on the young ladies as they come up. After the movie class will be dismissed, but I would like you to practice some of these at home. When she's in labour, she is going to need all the comfort she can get. All five of the senses can help to ease her pain, but today we're focusing on touch."

Matthew cringed as the instructor turned the projector on and fiddled with another device. Perfect. Just perfect. As soon as he decides not to be comfortable allowing Gilbert to touch him, they attend a class on just how to touch. Ridiculous.

The movie played, showing just how to massage and the places that would feel best when in labour. Gilbert tried them all out, but could tell that Matthew was trying very hard to not enjoy any of them. Well, if he didn't want them, then he wouldn't get them. Besides in class, Prussia was determined to not give another massage unless specifically asked for.

The first part of the video was excruciating for Canada. It covered gentle pressure massages to ease tension. When Gilbert's hands moved in soft, gentle patterns along his hips, he wanted nothing more than to wiggle and squirm. He was ticklish and sensitive and it only made him stiffen.

The second technique, kneading, was exactly as Gilbert had done for the past few weeks, and predictably, though for some reason Prussia had begun to falter, Matthew's eyelids fluttered closed and at the back of his throat he made a tiny noise of deep contentment.

Next was stroking, and Prussia said to himself that yeah, stroking may help take Matthew's mind off the pain, but he really didn't think he would be thanked for getting Canada off during labour. But this was a time to be serious and not to make dirty jokes that the Canadian very likely wouldn't appreciate, so he kept it to himself and went along with the massage.

Matthew's breath hitched quietly as, for the first time in Gilbert's life, he followed directions perfectly. His palms stroked from Matthew's shoulders to his hips for a good three minutes before he followed the video's instructions and hitched up Matthew's jersey, his palm gliding from Canada's thighs to his knees. With a trembling hand he grasped the hem of Prussia's shirt behind him and closed his eyes to the sensation. Even when they had been sleeping together, those hands had never... oh, what was the word... _caressed_.

"If you like this so much, then why have you been refusing them?" Gilbert couldn't help but ask quietly in Matthew's ear. After all, it was a little weird. Canada practically looked like he just had an orgasm, but he would only accept the massage if they were forced to in this class.

Humming when Gilbert alternated the pressure of his palms, Matthew opened his eyes. "You're ruining it," he answered pleasantly, his entire being perking up when the instructor on the screen began to introduce the final method.

This one involved Matthew bending forward, and Prussia pushing his knuckles as hard as he could on his lower back. It probably would only feel good when he was having contractions, so to help him now, Gilbert rotated his knuckles, pretty much going back to the kneading.

The noise Canada made at that would haunt him (and remain a long-lived joke within that group) forever more. It came unbidden, a cross between a whimper and a cry of deep pleasure. He didn't even realize he was doing it until Prussia's fantastic hands ceased abruptly and Matthew opened his eyes to find thirteen other pairs on him. His cheeks colored so deeply that it was a wonder he didn't spontaneously combust.

"Uh, right." Gilbert awkwardly cleared his throat, moving his hands away and scooting his whole body back. If Matthew was going to get angry, it wouldn't be at him.

The lady next to them who looked a good eight months pregnant smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't be ashamed dear, we all know how good it can feel. It's really too bad that we have to get pregnant for our boys to give our backs any proper attention, right?"

Matthew cringed, wanting nothing more than to up and run from the room. That wasn't an option, as he rather liked the class, and nodded sheepishly. A few ladies around the room openly offered their own agreement and many male voices protested in a lighthearted manner. When everyone began to quietly joke and laugh to their partners, Matthew couldn't even meet Gilbert's eye. What on earth could he say? 'It's your fault that you have a natural talent'? 'I can't believe you had the audacity to make me feel so good'? It was ridiculous, every bit of it, and more embarrassing than he could admit.

Luckily for both of them, the movie was now pretty much over. There was coffee after, but they didn't stay, so within ten minutes, Gilbert was behind the wheel. He liked having the excuse of not having to look at Matthew, who was still beet red and rather too ashamed to speak.


	12. Chapter 12

Just a little note to everyone who mentioned Canada's "bitchiness" and basic distrust toward Prussia: Come on, homeslices. Realistically speaking, Canada's spent hundreds of years in relative solitude with a severe inferiority complex, and even though he's not a total pushover, he does have major self-esteem issues. These issues have built and solidified over _centuries_. Is it really realistic to expect him to change and have complete faith in one man's word over the course of a few months? It would be weird if he **did** suddenly become totally trusting and confident. So because this fic only takes place in about the span of a year, no, he does not completely change his point of view except to become tentatively more open to Gilbert, and at a point it actually does get worse.

Canada is not being a bitch to Prussia. Canada is carefully guarding the feelings that he's entrusted to many people before who have been around longer and still managed to crush them. To expect him to do otherwise would do his character and anyone with low self-esteem a severely unrealistic disservice. These things take time, much longer than we've written this story for.

* * *

><p>It wasn't just a one-day bout of awkwardness between the two. For many days after, wherever Prussia would eat a meal, Canada was sure to avoid that room. Anymore it was a rarity that Matthew ate in the kitchen at all, except to scarf something down before Prussia was aware that a meal had been made. It felt almost like cheating, eating with Prussia, though Cuba hadn't yet come to visit since they had decided to get together.<p>

... That was a weird way to put it. Matthew felt off about considering his relationship to Cuba as "being together." Frankly, it wasn't true. They were very far apart, not only as nations but as people. They just weren't geographically close. And even though it was the same with Gilbert, he was physically _there_. Constantly. If anything, it was Prussia that he was together with. B-but that could easily be said for Canada and America. Except he didn't feel guilty eating with America. Just Prussia.

After another two weeks of being avoided, Gilbert was once again in a constantly grumpy mood. He was too awesome to be avoided. It was a big house, but they still bumped into each other, and whenever they were in the same room for more than a minute, Matthew would find some excuse for leaving. And Canada was a terrible liar. Had he come up with believable excuses, it wouldn't have been so bad, but saying that he wanted to read in his room because the air quality was better for the book was just ridiculous. So, when he was told that Cuba was going to be coming over at the end of the week, he was actually looking forward to it.

Frankly, so was Matthew. Keeping up with all of his guilt and loneliness was getting to be rather exhausting. It was hard to ask for someone's help while you were busy avoiding them. So in the early evening when the dark-skin man pulled up in his drive, Matthew met him at the door, sighing as he was immediately pulled into a bearish embrace. "Hello, Ismael."

"Mm, I've missed you." The Cuban sighed into his hair, then pulled him in for a kiss. "How have you been? I know we talked on the phone just last night, but still." He looked at Matthew and felt his stomach to see if he had grown.

Matthew twitched as the large, dark hands moved over his belly. He didn't hesitate, and he didn't flinch- it was sort of a stalemate between the two. "Ah.. fine." Well, as fine as you could get awkwardly avoiding the only other person that lived in your home. He went for a bright, cheery smile. "And how are you? Come inside, welcome, welcome."

The dark nation smiled as he went inside, taking Matthew's hand in his. "I've been alright. I'm so glad my boss gave me some time off to come here though." They walked into the living room, and he saw Gilbert on the couch. Immediately, Canada took his hand back.

"Uh, I'm sure you two will have a lot to talk about... cars and women and whatnot. I'll let you get to that. Would you like anything to drink?" he asked them both, taking Cuba's suitcase.

They both replied no, and Cuba sat down on the chair and started talking to him. About half an hour later, the doorbell rang, which was pretty strange, since there wasn't anyone else Matthew had been expecting. He shouldn't have been surprised, though, when he opened the door to find his grinning brother.

Rather unlike with Cuba, Matthew felt no trepidation being pulling into that pair of strong arms. He hugged Alfred back, a bewildered smile on his face. "Hi, Al... uh... what are you doing here?"

"Hey! One of my spies said that Cuba had a flight over here. I said there was no way a commie would visit my bro, but I'm guessing that's his car outside, so I've come to protect you! And my nephew of course. Wouldn't want him getting any commie ideas."

"Pronto's too young to be developing any ideas other than what they want to eat at any and every particular moment. And don't be rude; yes, Cuba's here."

Alfred pushed inside, closing the door once both he and Canada were inside. "Well I can't be too careful now can I? I mean you're already part communist with your health care. Clark has to be shown the free way of life!"

Matthew watched his brother for a long, incredulous moment before he felt his palm make direct contact with his face. "Superman, Alfred? Really? What happened to Bruce?"

"Well I thought about it, and Batman is awesome, but he doesn't have any actual super powers. And I mean, Superman has 'super' in his name." He said it as though it should be obvious. America was walking around the house, trying to find someone, then came upon the two men talking away. "Hey bastards."

Gilbert just glanced over to him. "Don't swear. What the frick are you doing here?"

America smirked. "I'm here to rescue Mattie from you. Judging by your powdery appearance and arrogance, you're probably super boring. Boredom isn't good for the baby." He waved a flippant hand at Cuba. "And he's a communist. I don't think there need be any explanation beyond that."

"Alfred, you're not being nice," Canada called from the kitchen where he was pouring a drink for his brother.

Cuba's glare could cut ice, but he tried hard not to get angry. Matthew was there, he couldn't get angry. "You're not needed here, so why don't you just fuck off already? It's getting crowded."

Prussia just rolled his eyes. "I said don't swear! Even though he's in the kitchen, Matthew's belly can probably still hear us."

Walking into the room, Canada had a funny expression on his face as he glanced at the albino. What an odd thing to say...

America, however, looked somewhat pleased. "Even a kraut ghostie like you cares about something like that? Not bad. Ten points."

Deciding that he really didn't want to be with the stupid insulting American, Cuba stood up and looked to Matthew. "Are you still doing things in the kitchen? I could help you. It's about time to start dinner, isn't it?"

"Huh? Is it that late already?" Matthew inquired quizzically, glancing at the clock. "Oh, wow. I don't really notice anymore. I'm almost always hungry," he admitted with a little laugh, leading Cuba into the kitchen. Alfred watched them go and seemed like he was about to follow when, oddly enough, Prussia called for his attention.

"Whaaaat? I have to save Mattie from getting any more commie ideas."

"Can you shut up about communists for one minute? You do realize just how much it pisses people off." But he needed someone to talk to, someone who was close to Matthew, and unfortunately that someone was Alfred.

America's laugh was boisterous at that. He shook his head and plopped down on the couch, making himself comfortable. "Oh man. Hearing that from you is just priceless." He grinned and made a motion with his hand. "But enough about you. What do you want?"

The albino gave a long sigh at that. "Well, first off, I still hate you. You're still an idiot, and I'm still way more awesome than you will ever be, this doesn't change that. But, I want to talk to you about Matthew. Something's wrong with him."

America's countenance sobered instantly. He sat up and leaned forward. "Physically?" he asked, wondering if maybe he had seen something off about Matthew that just hadn't registered. He thought about it, but nothing came to mind.

"No, nothing with the baby or anything. He's just been avoiding me. A lot. And his back hurts, but he won't let me give him a massage. It started ever since that stupid meeting in Germany!" He remembered to keep his voice down, so that nothing of the conversation would be heard from the kitchen.

Alfred thought on it for a moment, propping his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together between them. "... It might be depression," he finally said, glancing up at Gilbert over his glasses. "That actually happens quite a bit with expecting mothers. They sometimes feel like they don't have support, even if they do, and that they have to take everything on alone, and it gets to be overwhelming and they start acting funny."

They were both silent for a moment, when a laugh came from the kitchen. Gilbert quirked an eyebrow. "He seems happy enough now. You... you don't think that they... could be, you know?"

"Huh?" Alfred's somber expression lightened a bit with cluelessness. "Who could be what?"

"Oh my god, you're such an idiot. Do you think those two are together? They hung out in Germany, and ever since then Matt's been acting weird." Gilbert was surprised at the jealousy he got when thinking that maybe Cuba would be giving him massages.

Alfred blinked before laughing. "Pff, no way! What do you take Mattie for? You were just a temporary lapse in judgment. Matt has great taste." He shook his head, chuckling. "Matt and that commie... in Cuba's dreams, maybe."

Even though he didn't want to take America's word for it, Gilbert figured that he had known Canada longer than anyone, going back to when they were small kids running around in the big empty fields, with no land disputes or duties to worry about. "Well, could you try to talk to him while you're here? You know, try to figure out what's going on?"

"Of course," America said without hesitation, scratching his cheek. "But why are you so concerned? 'S not like you and Mattie have anything going on."

Which reminded Gilbert exactly why he hated America. "Because I fucking live with him and, oh, there was something else... oh yeah! I knocked him up. I don't need to be fucking him to wonder why he suddenly got so distant." He figured that there was no way the baby could hear them if they were still talking in hushed voices, so he could swear as much as he wanted.

America's grin was cheeky as he leaned forward. "Yeah, but let's be honest; a few months ago you wouldn't have given two shits whether he was distant or not. All you wanted was to fuck, eat and run. So what happened to make you magically start to care?"

Gilbert glared at him, wishing that Matthew wouldn't get extremely angry with him for punching his brother. "He got pregnant, and I moved in with him." Then he slumped back in the couch, determinedly not looking at the blond. "Besides, it's not like I didn't care about him before. If it was just a fuck I could have easily gotten that in Germany."

"Come on now," Alfred said knowingly. "You're talking to the guy who knows everything about that kid. I can count on one hand the number of people that come to visit Matthew who aren't solely in it for his pancakes. Is it that?"

He decided that he didn't have to answer that, so he stood up. "Just talk to him. Besides that, I would be happy to not see you again." Gilbert went to his room, knowing no one would bother him there. What was it about the American that pissed him off so much?

Once Canada had seen everyone to bed like a proper host he retired to his bathroom to shower and get ready for bed. After a thorough washing to get the cigar scent off of his body, toweling off and brushing his teeth, Matthew slipped into his loose sweatpants and a big t-shirt before walking out into his dark room. Slipping under the covers, he was unsurprised to feel a large, warm buffer near the middle of the sizable bed. "You know there are plenty of other rooms, Al."

"Yeah, but none of them have my adorable brother in 'em," Alfred said, obviously smiling even though it was too dark to see. To fix that, he turned on the bedside light. After all, if he wanted to talk like Prussia asked him too, then light would be good.

Matthew rolled his eyes and scooted over, wincing as the motion sent a sharp pain up his spine. "Geez... hey, Al, could you, uh... could you rub my back? It's really killing me..."

At that, he remembered Gilbert saying that Matthew had been refusing massages. Well, obviously it only applied to the albino. "Yeah, roll over. Let my amazing magic hands ease your pain. God, I remember the back pains. It was so bad with California. She was such a big baby."

Matthew propped his chest up on a few pillows and closed his eyes as Alfred began working on his back. He was good, certainly, but... Canada sighed. He was no Gilbert. But he couldn't have Gilbert's massages, so Alfred would just have to do. He didn't know what had stopped him from requesting one from Cuba earlier, but even when the pain had been almost unbearable for a few minutes that evening, he just couldn't bring himself to ask. "Lower..."

While working out the many knots, Alfred tried to think of a way to breach the subject. Something subtle, something that wouldn't make Matthew suspect that Gilbert had told him anything... "So are you mad at the albino or something? He said you've been avoiding him."

Turning to look over his shoulder at America, Canada blinked. "W-what?" he muttered. "No, I... well, yes..."

"Yes? I knew it. That idiot did something didn't he? I knew you were acting weird at the meeting when we did the part about you. Of course I had just thought it was because you were shy, but this makes more sense. He tried to sleep with you didn't he?"

"No!" Matthew gripped the pillow. "And I didn't mean... I'm not mad at Gilbert. That was a yes to.. to the other question." He didn't know why, but the thought of Gilbert knowing that he was dating Cuba was unsettling, so before Alfred could ask any other questions, he opened his mouth. "Is it strange for the baby not to kick, even though it's week 21?"

Easily distracted, Alfred paused in his rubbing. "Hm... well I think it's normal for first time moms to feel the baby move later. I'm not too sure when it happened to me my first pregnancy, because I didn't even know I was pregnant 'til it moved. But I don't think you should worry about it. The baby is my nephew, so he has to be strong!"

Matthew recalled a similar thought, though it had been about Gilbert, and nodded a bit to himself. "I can't help but worry... you'd think Gilbert's offspring would just be a constant ball of energy, but Pronto hasn't even started poking around..."

"Well, I think he's moving, you just can't feel it yet because the movements are still pretty small. And at first they are kind of weird, you might not recognize it for what it is." Alfred continued with the massage, trying to remember the places that had hurt the most when he was pregnant.

Canada made a noise as his brother worked out a stubborn knot. "Yeah... all I can do is wait, I guess." He sighed and fell forward onto his pillows, closing his eyes. Gilbert thought he was mad at him? Understandable, he supposed... he had been avoiding him. Rather unjustly at that. Matthew sighed again. How was he to tell Prussia that he hadn't done anything wrong, but Canada still shouldn't be around him?

* * *

><p>In the morning, everyone awoke to the smell of pancakes and bacon and stumbled downstairs. Matthew and Alfred were in the kitchen, Alfred cooking the bacon and squealing every time he was hit with a splatter of grease.<p>

"Just step back, Al, I told you," Matt said and nudged him before he noticed the two, utter opposites in color and aura, that were peeking into the room behind them. "Good morning," he said with a little smile and a wave.

They both mumbled and sat down at the kitchen table. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Gilbert remembered that he had to ask America about what Matthew had said. If he had even talked to him. "Hey, idiot, I think I have one of your shirts in my room."

America turned toward Canada with a playful smirk. "I think he's talking to himself again. He sounds crazier and crazier every time he opens that mouth, huh?"

The younger nation rolled his eyes. "You should probably just go check that out, Al. I'll take care of the bacon."

They both headed upstairs, and once they were out of earshot, Gilbert stopped him. "So? Did you get to talk to Matt about what's been going on or not?"

Alfred scratched the back of his neck and glanced at the ceiling. "Yeah. He said he wasn't mad at you. Dunno why not, though. He changed the subject on me."

"That's all the information you got? That he wasn't mad at me? You're such an idiot! Did you even think of actually finding out what's wrong? What if he actually is depressed!" Gilbert hissed when they were in the safety of his room, sure that no one could hear them from the kitchen.

"Well... I don't think he's depressed. But he wasn't ready to talk about it. If there's one thing you've gotta learn about Mattie it's that he'll talk when he's ready, and never before. And if he wasn't gonna tell _me_ about it, he really isn't ready. You have to trust that he'll figure it out on his own. Otherwise, try to press the issue and he clams up completely."

Gilbert crossed his arms and glared over the other's shoulder. "I bet you're just too oblivious so you didn't notice that he had changed the subject." But then he sighed and let his arms hang by his sides. "But I guess that's fine, if you think he'll come around. But if he doesn't I'm blaming you."

Laughing, Alfred winked at the albino. "Don't worry too much. Tell you what: if Mattie calls me about anything, and if it's a real problem I know he will, and it's detrimental to his health, I'll tell you."

"Oh gee thanks, so glad that you would do that. Fuck, you're such a dick," Gilbert muttered under his breath, walking away and back down to the kitchen. He only saw Matthew there. "Where's Cuba?"

Matthew looked up from the pancakes and smiled wryly, flipping one. "He's outside. Smoking."

Prussia frowned a little at that. "Oh. Well, if it's outside I guess. Just, uh, make sure you don't inhale any of it. Man if he still comes around when the baby is born, we should like make sure he doesn't do it around the kid."

"Mm..." Matthew rubbed a bit of flour from his chin. "I don't know how to bring that up with him. I don't want to be rude... It's how he relaxes. I can't ask him to stop. But it makes me nervous."

"Well it's disgusting. Seriously, it stinks up the whole place. It's not good for you."

"I know... and I can't be sure it's not bad for the baby, too." He nibbled on his thumbnail once the last pancake was overturned onto a plate. "But I just can't ask him to stop. That's impolite. And it's asking too much. Is it really that bad if he just does it outside?"

Gilbert shrugged, not really knowing. "His clothes still smell like it though. Well, I guess it won't be a problem really, it's not like he's gonna be here constantly, right? He's just visiting." He was pretty sure Cuba said that he would have to leave tonight.

"Right..." The frown didn't leave Matthew's face, though. Even just being near Cuba made his clothes smell of the expensive cigars. He supposed that it should have been normal for him to enjoy the smoky scent, the smell of his... his boyfriend. It should have pleased him that it lingered as it did, but all he could do was worry for the baby's health. And if he wasn't the only one to think it was disgusting...

Canada set the plate stacked high with pancakes on the center of the table and wiped his hands off on his jeans. "I'll be right back."

He found Cuba sitting on the porch swing outside, gazing over the trees. When those dark eyes turned to him Canada faltered, but the fat cigar between his fingers urged him on. "We need to talk."

As soon as he saw Canada, he stubbed out the cigar quickly. "Oh, hey, um one second." Ismael waved his arms, trying to make all the smoke go away so that Matthew wouldn't inhale any of it. "Alright, it's all gone. What's up? I would have been back in a few minutes."

Sliding a strand of blond behind his ear, Canada met his eyes. "I just think I need to tell you that I don't really... feel comfortable with you smoking." He remembered what Gilbert had said and quickly added, "And when the baby's born, it's really just not a good idea. It just seems that every day, they're finding new ways that smoking hurts children, so I'm just nervous..."

"Well it's not like I'll smoke around the baby, Matthew. Or around you while you're pregnant. Don't worry about it." He put a hand on Canada's shoulder, sliding it around to the back of his neck. "If you want I could go to the driveway to smoke, so I'm not near the house."

And of course that made Canada feel terrible. He was such a jerk, telling this sweet man that he shouldn't smoke around him. He wanted to revoke it, but... but the baby was his top priority. So he just smiled and thanked him, feeling that somehow, nothing had really been accomplished.

* * *

><p>That night, Gilbert decided it had been far too long since he went to the bar. He hadn't been since before they went to Germany. Plus, he heard that they had strippers on tonight, so he definitely wanted to go.<p>

One good thing about that day was that about lunch time, America had received an urgent call from his boss and had to quickly leave, which made both Prussia and Cuba heave identical sighs of relief. But it also seemed that Matthew was being even more distant with him now.

"Hey Matt, I'm going out. Probably won't be back tonight."

The sun was setting and when the call rang out through the front room, Matt looked up from the sofa. He didn't need to ask why, and didn't plan to; he had worried Gilbert, and it would be unfair of him to ask him not to leave. It wasn't as though he would be alone for the whole time; Cuba wasn't set to leave for his flight for another hour or so. "Okay," he answered back when Gilbert poked his head in. "Have a nice time."

And that was exactly what Gilbert had planned to do: have a nice time. Even when it started raining when he was only halfway to the bar, even when a car drove passed and splashed him with water. There were strippers, so he would have fun. At the bar, he went to the bathroom to wash up, but when he went to take a piss the urinal flooded and got all over his shoes.

One of the strippers was a bit chubby, and the only hot one had an obvious bruise on her hip. Not that it mattered, he was still determined to have fun. So, when the strippers came into the crowd to give out lap dances, he waved a twenty towards the plump one.

* * *

><p>At the cabin Matthew folded Cuba's shirt, placing it in the suitcase as his last article and zipping it up. His eyes widened when two dark hands slid around his waist. "Ah, um... you have to be at the airport in an hour, Ismael..."<p>

"I know. It won't take an hour to pack my clothes though, I only stayed for one night." Cuba put his chin on Matthew's shoulder, rubbing his belly affectionately.

Matthew couldn't deny that he enjoyed the attention, but it was still odd. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it just wasn't what he pictured when he tried to imagine himself in a relationship. Maybe it was because no one had ever been this affectionate with romantic interests at heart? That might be it...

He wrinkled his nose at the sharp scent of tobacco. "You might want a shower... it's a bit of a flight."

"I think I'll be fine, I can have one when I get home. I would rather spend this time with you. Do you want to do anything?" He was thinking something romantic, taking a walk or something like that. There wasn't enough time to watch a movie together though.

What he really wanted was a long soak in a heavily scented bath to wash the overpowering scent of cigars from his body, but it wouldn't be polite in the slightest to say so. So he shrugged and looked down at the dark hands cradling his body. He should have been happy. He should be basking in the sweet intentions and warm touches, but he wasn't. Why? It frustrated him to ponder. How could he be so discontented with Cuba's kindness? "Nothing in particular..." he answered quietly. "Are you hungry?"

Ismael let go and turned Matthew around. "Not really, but you should probably eat something. How about a salad? That would be nice and healthy for the baby."

And it would, but to be honest, the cigar scent had quashed any appetite he might have had. "I'm not really hungry, surprisingly enough," Canada answered with a little smile. "And there's not really time to watch a movie..."

"Hm... we could go get some ice cream?" After all, they seemed to connect really well over ice cream. Although, Canada's family seemed to think it was bad for the baby, so maybe they shouldn't have any.

But Canada's eyes lit up considerably. Ice cream and familiar ground? That sounded perfect. "Yes! Let's put your stuff in my car and we'll stay until you need to be at the airport." He grabbed Cuba's bag in one hand and his arm in the other, pulling him along.

Well, how could he resist when Canada seemed so excited about it? "Alright. I'll pay, so don't worry about that." They got outside and Ismael paused. "Um, you go to the car, I'm gonna have a quick smoke, alright?" he said, already pulling out a cigar.

That certainly put a damper on Matthew's attitude. He hesitated only for a moment, staring at Cuba, and then shook his head, tossing Cuba's suitcase into his trunk and slammed the old lit shut unintentionally, climbing into the driver's seat to wait. His mood soured more and more by the minute as he waited for the Cuban to finish. He glanced over into the passenger seat and wrinkled his nose. Ugh. Now his car was going to smell like it, and the night was too cold to ride with the windows down on the way home. He groaned and let his head fall forward, accidentally activating the car horn. He jumped up and it stopped.

Cuba laughed as he opened the door and sat down. "Alright, I'm coming!" He smiled over at Matthew who still was looking startled by the horn. "You know, I could have driven. Driving can be stressful, and you shouldn't be stressed."

Matthew supposed he should have been happy at the thoughtful offer, but all he could feel was mild irritation. It seemed like the only person who didn't treat him like he was made of glass was Prussia. He couldn't think of anything that might come out of his mouth that would be nice, so he just turned on the car and pulled out of his drive and onto the mountain road.

The conversation in the car seemed rather... forced, as far as Matthew was concerned. The only topic they seemed to agree on was that America was an idiot. But even that wasn't true, because Matthew still loved his brother, and Cuba hated him.

Luckily, once they had reached the ice cream place, Canada was too busy gorging himself on mint and bubble gum scoops interchangeably to have to force himself to converse. The only chatting they did then was about the ice cream and the weather, and before they knew it, it was time for Cuba to leave. The drive to the airport was far less strained, which was a relief for the both of them.

At the gate, Cuba hugged Matthew goodbye, but didn't ask for a goodbye kiss.

Once he had waved Cuba off, Canada had wasted no time in purchasing a terribly overpriced car freshener in one of the airport kiosks and hastily booking it home, making a beeline for the bathroom. He had a steaming hot bath with his name on it and neither man nor bear could hope to stop him.

* * *

><p>The strobe lights in the clubroom had begun to flash and a slender brunette had found a surprisingly pleasant-looking German to entertain.<p>

Gilbert grinned as she bent down, showing off her cleavage. Yeah, she was definitely the hottest one. He put his hands on her hips and felt her sway sensually. Which somehow made him think about how much Matthew's hips should be hurting... after all, didn't West say his bones were going to change or something?

Shit, really not the time to think about that. He stuffed a twenty down her bra, and she straddled his lap easily. Maybe he could take her to a hotel room? It wouldn't have been the first time he had picked up a stripper. But Cuba was leaving tonight, Matthew would be all alone in the house. He gave a grunt at his thoughts, but tried to make it seem like it was of pleasure. It was easy enough, because he was already hard. Which was ridiculous, because all he could think about was Canada. This was getting depressing. He hadn't been to a bar in weeks, and now that he was getting a lap dance from a hot chick, he couldn't stop thinking about the pregnant boy back home who specifically said they wouldn't be having sex again.

She left after a minute, sliding over to another guy, and he didn't really care. He was hard, but it was already starting to go down. Gilbert checked his watch, and sure enough, Cuba would be long gone. What if there was a problem at home? What if Matthew slipped and fell in the tub, or accidentally cut himself, or couldn't move because of his back? And he was at a club, stuffing cash down the bras of scantily clad women. Fuck, his brother was right, he really needed to take some responsibility. Finally, he stood up and put some money on the table for the drinks, and left.

By the time he had reached the driveway, most of the lights were off. Whether that was a sign of distress or not he couldn't be sure, but Gilbert was damned if he wasn't going to find out. At least the door was locked, he discovered, and it wasn't until he had fished out his key and pushed the door open that a perfectly healthy-looking, dripping wet Matthew froze at the bottom of the stairs, one foot on the last step, the other turned toward the kitchen. He blinked at Prussia in surprise, as did the polar bear across the room. "... Gilbert? What are you doing here?"

Glad to see that everything seemed to be alright, Gilbert closed the door behind him. "I live here, don't I? Anyway, I figured that Cuba was gone, so you might have missed my awesome presence." Yeah, that sounded much less pathetic than 'I was worried about you.'

"Uh... I guess that was thoughtful of you...?" He rubbed the back of his damp neck and regarded the man before him. There was glitter on his jeans and his hair was mussed. Obviously he had been on the receiving end of some sort of action. But it was only ten o'clock. Why on earth was he home? And why did Cuba being gone matter? He hadn't been gone that long.

... Unless Prussia had kept that in mind. Canada blinked. Prussia had been thinking about something as trivial as Canada being left alone for a night? Even when he was obviously having a good time with someone else... His heart swelled and colour rose in his cheeks. Gilbert had come home early out of concern for him.

That was the feeling he had wanted from Cuba's numerous romantic gestures, but none of them had instilled it in him. How ridiculous it was that something so simple could make him happier than any sweet words ever could.

"Um... Gil?" He smiled a little sheepishly and met the focused red gaze. "My back has been bothering me for a bit..."

"Yeah no shi... no kidding. Shame too, since I learned all those massaging techniques in that class." And had promised to himself that he wouldn't give him another one unless he was asked. Slightly hinting that he wanted a massage didn't count.

Remembering that particular embarrassing class he blushed but laughed quietly, pointing upstairs. "If you'll go shower and get the glitter out of your hair real quick, I'll make some pudding and maybe we can discuss a thorough, long overdue massage for poor ol' me, hmm?"

Quickly, Prussia shook his hair, trying to dislodge said glitter. But he quickly gave up when Matthew started laughing. "Uh, yeah, I'll go do that."

As the sound of footsteps receding upstairs turned into the overhead pipes circulating hot water, Matthew pulled out some milk and a chocolate pudding mixture, setting about to make a giant bowl for them both. It was only when he slid the brown liquid into the refrigerator to solidify that he recognized the lightness in his chest and the smile on his face. He tried to stifle it but found that he simply couldn't. He was happy. Ridiculously so. It must have been the hormones, because that level of happiness was just silly, but it was _good_.

His stomach rumbled a bit as he picked up around the living room. It was just an odd little pressure that he brushed off as gas. It went away eventually, just before Gilbert trotted down the stairs.

After making sure he had gotten rid of all the glitter, Gilbert felt fine with going back downstairs, and heard Matthew humming. Well, it seemed that he wasn't being distant anymore, as he turned around with a large smile on his face. "So I was thinking, when you get bigger, doing the pillow thing won't really work well if you want to keep having massages. We'll have to try to come up with some way that you can still lie face down without your belly getting in the way."

Canada considered this and eventually shrugged his shoulders a bit, taking his seat at the table. When Gilbert did the same on the opposite side, it felt... good. So much better than guilting himself out of it. Matthew didn't know why he would have forced himself not to in the first place. It was ludicrous of him to avoid human contact for the sake of someone that wasn't even there. "I could just sit?" he suggested. "Or stand. I think it could probably work no matter what I'm doing."

Gilbert nodded, wondering if he could get the pressure that Canada liked on his lower back if he wasn't sitting. "That might work. But I think you're still small enough for the pillows. Wanna go to the couch?" That's where they did it all the other times, at least.

Nodding enthusiastically, Canada beat him to it, ready and more than willing to receive the heavenly sensation. If Cuba didn't like it, then it was probably best that they shouldn't be together.

And just like that, as Gilbert moved behind and over him, lifting his shirt up to get a feel of the tightness in Matthew's back, Canada knew that he had to call it over. He would inform Cuba as soon as he could... tomorrow. At the moment, he couldn't be bothered with much of anything thanks to the fantastic pressure being applied to his tight muscles.


	13. Chapter 13

Sorry about the late update! I spent a couple of weeks in Ireland, and that threw me way off even more than usual; Tyger had to very delicately remind me that we had a fic to be updated. Please thank her for being the one to actually get the ball rolling.

* * *

><p>Ismael arrived home, showered, and then unpacked his things, of which he'd brought very little. After that he opened his computer, and within an hour had a call on Skype from Canada. He hoped that it was just him checking if his flight had gone well. "Hello, Matthew. You look... rested."<p>

Even on the chat screen Matthew's blush was easy to spot. He smiled a little awkwardly. "I'm sorry I can't say the same for you. You look pretty tired. Um, there's something I need to tell you."

Cuba sighed and leaned back in his seat. That didn't sound good. He took out a cigar and lit up, knowing that he would need it. "Yeah? What is it?"

The camera almost didn't catch the short flick of Canada's eyes to the cigar, but after the brief twitch his expression became more resolute. "You've been very sweet to me, Ismael, and I appreciate it more than you know... but I can't continue in a relationship with a person that I'm not in love with." He worried his bottom lip for a split second before continuing. "The thing is, I probably would have stayed with you until I convinced myself that I actually had feelings for you that would seem stronger than they actually were, and I... I lectured Gilbert on that enough. I can't not learn the same lesson."

An even bigger sigh this time, and Cuba gave a bitter smile, pulling the cigar out of his mouth. "That sounds a lot like 'It's not you, it's me'. But I guess I saw it coming. My fault for asking out a guy who's so in love with someone else, eh?"

Matthew was an almost ungodly shade of pink and he smiled awkwardly. "I really didn't know it when I agreed to be your... partner. I thought I could love you. You're very kind to me, and I'm an idiot not to be with you. You're even understanding when I'm being unreasonable..."

"It's fine, Matthew. I just want you to be happy. I thought I would be better for you than Prussia, but not if you have to force yourself to be with me." Ismael put his head back, taking a long drag and letting it go. "Just... promise me you'll try. To be happy, I mean."

"Of course. And you, too. I know you'll be happy; you're a kind, warm man. I'm an idiot. If I could, I..." But he shook his head and simply smiled. "Thank you, Ismael. I... urgh." He winced and rubbed his stomach. "I've been having some pains since last night. I'm gonna go take something for this. Sleep well."

The dark nation nodded, then closed the window.

Matthew sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Though a weight had lifted off his chest in breaking a very brief affair with Cuba, he still felt terrible. Cuba had been so kind and thoughtful, ever cheerful and affectionate. Why couldn't he have loved him back? Canada worried his lower lip as he made his way down the hall, only coming out of his reverie when a short, loud curse cut through the silence. Blinking, Matthew peered through the door that the sound had emanated from, rather surprised to find that it was... the nursery.

"Goddamn sticky tape you're supposed to stick! _Mein Gott_..." some more German was mumbled before Matthew opened the door to find Prussia, on a ladder, putting up what looked like a baby blue trim around the room, with little yellow balls on it...

Gilbert turned around, and almost fell off the ladder. "Matt! Uh, hi! I thought you were... Well I found this stuff yesterday, and the birds looked like Gilbird, and I figured that the baby should get used to my awesome pet before he meets him," he explained, pointing to the yellow things on the trim.

Matthew looked around the room at the green and yellow flecks from Francis' and Alfred's paintjob and the adorable baby bird trim and he covered his mouth to hide the smile threatening to split his face in two. "I love it, Gilbert," he said honestly.

Trying to get the sticky tape from his hand onto the wall, Gilbert shrugged. "Doesn't matter if you like it really, not gonna be your room. But I guess you'll be spending a lot of time here and everything... When are we gonna get a crib, by the way?"

"Well, I think Alfred had his mind set on bribing Sweden or Denmark into making something special," he said. "I haven't heard anything back about that, though."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess that would be good. Although we might have to assemble it when it gets here!" Gilbert chuckled at his own joke, then groaned when the tape once again stuck to his arm. "Holy fu.. f... fur, who invented this stuff?"

"Here..." Matthew stepped closer and motioned Gilbert down from the ladder, pulling the tape from his arm and sticking it to the wastebasket in the corner of the room.

After a few more minutes, Gilbert finally finished, and he looked around at all the birds. "You don't think they look like ducks, do you? They had ducks there, but these were way more awesome than the ducks."

"Oh, definitely," Canada said with a grin. "Much better than ducks." He laughed and dodged when Gilbert swiped at him with a piece of tape. "No, really! Awesome little baby birds, haha!"

Prussia crossed his arms, dropping the tape. "Shut up, they _are_ awesome. Just you wait, that baby is gonna love these baby birds. Those'll be his first words."

Matthew just laughed but ceased very suddenly when he felt another prod in his stomach. He cringed, touching his belly. "Ah..."

At once, Gilbert's entire attention was fixed on him, especially when Canada grabbed his belly. "What's wrong? Is something wrong? Are you in pain?" Maybe they could call West to come over. It would take a while, but they couldn't really take him to a real doctor, even if he dressed like a woman. They would want to searches and tests, and Matthew didn't have the right parts for that.

It wasn't exactly painful, but it was still there, something odd, almost like a...

He gasped, looking up at Gilbert. "The baby... it's the baby..." Canada looked down at his stomach for a long moment and then back up at Prussia, tears threatening to fall, a smile reaching from ear to ear. "Gil... the baby kicked...!"

"Oh! God you had me scared there! But hey, at least we know everything is fine, he just took a while, right?" As long as the baby and Matthew were fine. Prussia relaxed, and put his hand on the stomach. "... Do you think I'll be able to feel it?"

Canada's breath hitched and two fat tears fell, though he hastily wiped them away. "I... I don't know... here." He took Prussia's hand and lifted his shirt, pressing it to the spot where he felt the infant pressing against his insides. He looked up into those red, red eyes and tried to breathe normally. "Can you?"

A little disappointed, Gilbert shook his head. "No. Probably not strong enough yet to kick that hard. Oh well, I'll be able to feel him eventually, right? And then you can do that thing all pregnant ladies do, grabbing the hand of whoever's close and putting it on your belly, right?"

Canada laughed softly, his head falling forward onto Prussia's shoulder out of exhaustion. "Phew... Thank goodness. I was starting to worry that it would never happen."

"Why would you worry? That little baby is a growing land mass. We aren't easily killed, so I'm sure it would take a lot for something to go wrong," Gilbert decided firmly. Though, it was still delicate, so he wouldn't be chancing it.

Matthew pulled down his shirt and stood up straight, stepping back from the albino. It was a little disappointing that even after expressing worry, Gilbert still thought of the child as more of a thing than a person. But it did bring him back down to earth. "It's still scary when the little thing inside of you isn't doing what it's supposed to developmentally."

Gilbert smiled a bit, then patted Canada's belly. "He'll be fine. After all, you've done everything right, so what could go wrong? With my awesome genes in there, that baby will be perfect."

That was unexpected. Matthew felt heat crawl up the back of his neck from his chest and hastily turned and moved to the door before his cheeks could grow hot. "I-I'm going to go make some breakfast, if you'd like to join me when you're finished here."

Smirking at the quick retreat, Gilbert once again turned to the room. Now for the other three walls...

* * *

><p>After informing Alfred about the baby's kick, the American had jumped up with full intentions on hopping the first flight to Canada, but Matthew insisted that he finish his work and come just for a weekend. After some futile arguing, the American grudgingly agreed.<p>

This did not stop him from excitedly phoning England about it, who in turn informed France, and on the Friday afternoon of the 23rd week, Matthew greeted two of the three blond brothers at the door. He ushered them in and sent them off to their rooms to unpack and relax. It was a beautiful day, and all of the windows were open, allowing a healthy, warm breeze to brush through the curtains. Canada stroked Kumajiro's ears in passing as he made his way to the kitchen, sneaking over to Gilbert's side and glancing over his shoulder. "Quick," he mumbled, holding out a hand toward the warm, steaming mug in Prussia's grip. "Let me have a sip before they come back down."

"If you didn't want them here, you shouldn't have invited them," Gilbert said, but still pushed over his cup of coffee. "I think you like the thrill of hiding it. You haven't had any coffee for three weeks, and now that they're here you want some."

"Exactly," Canada said, one little sip turning into downing half the mug while glancing fervently at the door. "And I just know that at some point I'm going to be very stressed out, but I won't actually be able to remedy it with caffeine until they're gone. I'm planning ahead. It's a tactical maneuver."

Gilbert laughed and took the mug back to refill it. "Yeah, sure. If you're going to be stressed out, then tell them to go home. It's bad for the baby if you're stressed." Well, it would be fine if only Francis stayed. But the other two were free to leave as far as he was concerned.

"You know I can't do that. They're my family and I love them, despite all the bloodshed," Canada answered, savoring the bitter, rich flavor that remained in his mouth. "... And Francis brought his recipe for chocolate creme cake."

It was a good thing he had stopped drinking the coffee, because Arthur came down soon after. "Matthew, did you have to put me in a room right next to the frog? I can hear him singing a horrible French song already."

"Sorry, Arthur," Matthew said with a little smile. "If you'd like, you can trade places with Alfred." Or, his mind supplied, you can share, and make enough noise yourselves to make even Francis uncomfortable. "If it helps, there's going to be chocolate cake."

"Oh, should you really be having that? There is so much sugar in that... We could make a fruit salad instead if you want." But the glare he got from Matthew clearly told him no, they _would_ be having chocolate cake. "Oh, well. I'm sure it will be... satisfactory."

"Of course it will. I'm counting on it. In fact..." He stood, making a little noise when he felt a tiny foot press against the inside of his stomach. He rubbed it and pointed up. "I'm going to go see if he'll make it now. However, Arthur..." Canada took a deep breath. "I would love for you to make a fruit salad... but only if you promise not to actually _cook_ anything. No heat involved. Okay?"

He gave a tiny glare at that, but since it was Matthew he let it go. "Alright, I won't use the oven at all. Just a knife - and don't think I'll cut myself! It's just like a sword, only shorter."

Matthew smiled and kissed him on the cheek before ascending the stairs.

Arthur turned to Gilbert after watching him go and caught the amused little smile on his face. "You're awfully quiet."

He shrugged, taking a sip of coffee. "It's just funny how protective you guys are." And it was good to see Matthew walking without any pain. The massage he had given him this morning had been a long one, and Gilbert was pretty sure he'd got out all the kinks.

Arthur began to dig through Canada's refrigerator in search of fruit. "Come now; you've seen that sweet face. How can you not want to coddle the boy?" He came up short with only apples. "Oh dear... I may have to go shopping. You two've only got apples."

Gilbert nodded with a little laugh. "Last week Matt had a craving for apples. We got a whole flat of them, and they were gone within three days."

England smiled. "At least he's eating healthy, then. I'd better crack on with that."

The Briton called up the stairs for Canada and the young nation poked his head over the banister. "Yes?"

"I'm going shopping. Would you make a list of all the things you'd like?"

"Sure. I'll come, too. I'd like to get out of the house for a bit, anyway."

England grabbed a piece of paper and a pen as Canada trotted down the stairs. "Here, dear; write down what you want while I go get my boots."

Canada took the paper with a smile and peeked around the kitchen door at Prussia. "Is there anything you can think of that we need?"

He opened the fridge and looked around. "Pickles, God knows how much you crave them. Some stuff to make pancakes with, sugar, milk, and cheese. Oh, get some massage oil too while you're in town."

Matthew rolled his eyes, but wrote them down. "Massage oil... Gil, you know it's not for recreation. If I didn't know better," he said with a teasing little grin, "I'd say you liiike rubbing my back."

"No, it's just awkward when your skin is dry. It would be easier to massage if there is oil." And hell, it was the closest he got to Matthew. To anyone, lately, because since the stripper incident he hadn't been out. But Canada just hummed and stuffed the list into the pocket of his jeans. "Text if you can think of anything else," he said with a wave as England descended the stairs behind him.

It was only a short while after they had gone that Francis strolled into the kitchen, squeezing Gilbert's butt on his way to the refrigerator. "I cannot find that loudmouth England or my adorable Mathieu anywhere."

"They went shopping. Probably to get away from you. Can't say I blame them." Gilbert went up behind him, snickering when Francis made little tutting noises at the food in there.

"I'm sorely disappointed," Francis said with a sigh, pulling out the milk and eggs. "Mathieu loved baking with me all through his childhood. We haven't done it in so long... I was hoping he would make the chocolate cake with me. Ah well. Where is the cocoa?"

Remembering where it was when Matthew had wanted hot chocolate and apple juice last week, he grabbed it and passed it to France. "They went to get fruit and stuff, because England wanted to make a fruit salad. Don't worry, Matt already made him promise to not use the stove."

"Smart boy," France replied gravely. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I do hope Alfred arrives soon. He can keep an eye on rosbif. Heaven knows that even with a knife and fruit, that man could make something catch fire."

Prussia chuckled and waited until the batter looked thick enough to be done, then stuck his finger in it. "How do you think it would taste with some maple syrup? Not a lot, but I bet Matt would appreciate it. A lot."

Francis only shook his head and groaned, swatting at Gilbert's wrist. "Just because he is Canada doesn't mean he will like maple syrup in everything," he sniffed.

"He put maple syrup on his chocolate muffins, so I don't see why he wouldn't like it in chocolate cake. Besides, right now I think he would even put maple syrup in apple pie with all his cravings." The sad thing was that even Gilbert was getting used to the strange food - not just watching Canada consume it, but even eating some of it himself. France paused in his stirring to take the time to stare at his old friend for a few long seconds before he smiled and resumed the motion.

"You are paying attention to his wants and needs. That's fantastic, Gilbert. I knew you would come around!"

A little startled at the sudden... well he wasn't really sure what it was but it was sudden, Gilbert frowned. "What the hell are you talking about? I just know his cravings. It gets that way after living with him for... however long it's been. How long _has_ it been, anyway?"

"Months and months," France said with a wink. "And don't you try to deny how attentive you've become. You just tried to lecture me on the importance of syrup in his desserts. You're becoming such a sweet young man." His grin was teasing, but his tone was warm.

Mumbling at little, Gilbert turned away. "Not all desserts. Just the chocolate ones." Dammit, he did know too much about what Matthew liked. But was that really a bad thing? After all, the more he knew, the more stress it would take off Canada's shoulders. In fact... "Hey, Francis, do you think you could teach me how to cook? Later on, it wouldn't make sense for Matt to continue cooking and shit."

"Yes... I don't imagine you know much more than how to prepare military rations, and they wouldn't exactly make for nutritious meals," he said with a nod and felt his heart lighten. It was such a relief to know that his friend was becoming so careful of the young nation. "Of course I will teach. Delicious, healthy foods to feed father and child."

Matthew and Arthur came back from shopping just in time for the cake to be finished. And when it was cool enough to eat, America came to the door, arms laden with a large wrapped present. "Come open it, Mattie! I'll give you a hint: it's for the baby."

Matthew looked over his shoulder from inside the pantry, shelving things from the shopping bags. "Hi, Alfred. Just set it on the table and I'll open it in a minute. Ah..." He pulled a sack from the plastic bag and poked his head out from the food closet into the kitchen. "Gil, here." The nation handed the birdseed over to his companion once he'd shuffled closer. "I saw Gilbird was running low earlier."

"Oh, thanks." Prussia looked at the seed. He hadn't even noticed it was getting low. Gilbert took the bag up to his room and put it in the jar, and sure enough it had only held enough for a few more feedings. He didn't notice the sound of footsteps in the hall and the second he stepped out of his room, a large solid body collided with his.

"Oof- watch out, Gilly," America said with a grin before disappearing into Matthew's bedroom.

Gilbert rolled his eyes and went downstairs for some cake. Arthur had said that they got some strawberries for on top. Of course France would want to make a sauce for them, but he could have a piece before that.

"... But Francis," Matthew said when he entered, his voice very nearly a whine, "I'm telling you, I know this fantastic recipe for maple chocolate icing. It would go so well with this!"

The albino let himself have a smug grin. "Told ya so." He looked at Francis, who was actually getting a little red in the face.

"Hah," the Frenchman said with a sniff. "Lucky guess."

"Eh?" Canada looked from Gilbert to France. "You thought so too? Side with me, Gilbert. Wouldn't maple chocolate taste fantastic with this chocolate creme cake? Ooh! Or I could whip up some maple strawberry cream and... Stop laughing!"

Gilbert patted Matthew on the shoulder. "We'll give you your own piece, and you can put as much maple syrup on it as you want. But if you talk about it much more, I think Frenchie is gonna blow a gasket. You know how much he hates making his food taste weird."

Matthew frowned. "You guys always patronize me, but you don't even try the things I make. They're all delicious and you shouldn't talk like you know." Francis opened his mouth to object, but Matthew beat him to it. "The nutmeg crepes notwithstanding!"

"But Matt, you gotta admit that when you had coleslaw on poutine, it was a little weird." Gilbert decided that since no one else was doing it, he would cut the cake, so he took one of the last knives that Arthur wasn't using, because apparently it took twelve knives to cut up fruit.

"I don't have to admit to anything because you didn't even try it," he said with a little glare.

"Poutine in general is a little weird," France chuckled, smudging a bit of chocolate across Canada's nose when he became irate.

Alfred came down to hear that, and he paused. "Poutine? Are you guys speaking French again? And wasn't that the name of one of your bosses, Mattie?" He looked over to England, who was concentrating too much on cutting the fruit to even be paying attention to the conversation, so he went up behind him and quickly slid his arms around the Brit.

England was startled and very nearly cut his finger. "Don't sneak up on me like that, damn yank," he said, turning a bit pink when the American kissed his cheek. "I've got sharp implements here. You'd be a fool not to be nervous."

"It's true," Francis said over his shoulder. "I'm shaking all the way over here."

"But you looked so cute, bent over the cutting board like that!" Alfred laughed and refusing to detach from Arthur even as he started cutting again.

"I'd be careful if I were you," Francis called again with a chuckle even as England started spitting insults at him. Matthew shook his head and pulled a strawberry from the colander in the sink and took a bite. "They've already started," he sighed, shaking his head.

The French nation grabbed things for the sauce and tutted at the shape of the two nations pressed against each other. "It is just disgusting. They shouldn't be doing that in the kitchen!" Which was probably the only place in a house that Francis would refuse to have sex in.

Canada eyed him warily. "I was talking about you and Arthur," he muttered. "It doesn't bother me if two of you are getting along in my house."

"We don't fight as much as Amerique and Gilbert; you should be more worried about them. Gilbert! You can't eat half the cake!" Francis waked his friend over the head with a spoon, and made him take a smaller piece.

Matthew just shook his head and grabbed another strawberry. He took in the sight of the room and smiled a bit in faint amusement. "So there's lots of dessert, but no dinner, huh?"

That made everyone pause. Then Alfred put up his hand as if in class. "We could order burgers!" Then that got everyone arguing about what they wanted to eat. Gilbert noticed that Matthew was trying to say what he wanted, but his tiny voice was getting drowned out in the noise. So, to get everyone's attention, he practically yelled, "Hey Matt! What do you want?"

Matthew felt the sudden silence and attention on him rather embarrassing and he cleared his throat, rubbing his red cheek awkwardly. "Uh, I... I was just going to say that Arthur and I got some really fresh produce, and Francis is really good at making stew, and there's a bit of a cold front tonight... b-but I'll be happy with anything..."

Very quickly, everyone agreed on that, not wanting to have something that Matthew might not like. Besides, they decided that a stew would be really healthy and good for the baby. Gilbert smirked to himself and decided to leave the cooking to the others. He got out of the kitchen and went to sit down in the living room.

Matthew moved over to the table with Alfred and Arthur, slicing cucumbers as he was told, and proffering them to Francis once he was finished. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Francis smiled at him, and shook his head. "No, I think we'll be fine, you can go rest if you want. Maybe take a nap? Or... I think I saw Gilbert going to the living room, maybe you could ask him for a massage." After the talk earlier with Gilbert, France had realized how much he had matured in the past months. He also noticed just how Matthew acted around him, and decided that it would be best for everyone if they realized the sweet aura they were emitting with each other. And, who better to get them together than the master of love?

"Massage?" Alfred said curiously, looking over his shoulder. Matthew waved him away. "It's nothing, Al. Go back to wooing Arthur."

The Briton spluttered in protest as Canada walked into the living room, smiling at the image of Gilbert staring down the white bear on the sofa beside him. "Kuma could probably use some fresh air, and I've been shunned from the kitchen... wanna take a walk?"

Gilbert gave a snort, looking up. "You walk your bear? Bet that gets a few strange looks. Yeah, sure. Ha, good thing it isn't snowing or we wouldn't find him!" He stood up suddenly, making the white ball of fur look up at him. Damn, that thing still scared him sometimes.

Matthew stepped into the hall closet and pulled out a big sweater, buttoning it up in the front. "I don't put a leash on him or anything. He doesn't really wander off." Canada tossed a sweater to Prussia before bending over to pick out a pair of shoes.

"Well, as long as he doesn't attack anybody. But I mean, it's not like anyone comes up this hill anyway." The air outside had a cold nip, and when Matthew inhaled deeply it stung just a bit, but it felt wonderful. The sun was just beginning to touch the treetops in the distance, casting shadows along the path. "It's gonna be a cold winter," he said, sliding his hands down deep into his pockets.

Gilbert hummed his agreement, looking at all the wonderful colours in the sky over the mountains. "Is it bad for the baby to be born when it's cold? I guess if we keep him inside it'll be fine. After all, there are tons of babies born in the winter, right?"

"Well, in the mountains the chilly season comes early and stays late, so the baby will be used to it in no time," Matthew said with a little nod. It was beautiful in the mountains, color pouring over the leaves of the trees and across the sky. He sighed, rubbing the underside of his belly lightly. There was a tiny kick from within. "I'm so glad I moved up here. I can't imagine a more beautiful place to raise a child." But then he blinked and smiled over at his companion. "Although what I've seen of Germany is very lovely, too."

"Yeah, it is. But you still need to be here, I don't need to be in Germany since I don't... exist anymore." But he had been feeling much better about leaving Germany lately, had hardly thought about it at all the past few weeks.

Matthew caught sight of his frown and lightly bumped into his side. "When you say it like that, it sounds like you just aren't there. But you very much are."

"I am as a person, but not as a nation." Gilbert stopped and turned to him, a fairly serious look on his face. "What if one day I disappear completely? I mean sure, I became East Germany, but Ludwig only did that to save me. He doesn't really need me. What if I disappear and I can't take care of the baby?" Or even worse, what if the baby was old enough to remember him and understand what happened? He didn't want to put a child through that.

Matthew felt a sudden fear at that. He hadn't thought of it before... but it certainly wasn't the time to start now. He shook his head and offered Prussia his determination. "No way. You can't just fade away. "Look at you. You haven't even begun to fade, and your nation was disassembled over seventy years ago. As long as you don't lose the will, I don't think you'll ever disappear."

Gilbert looked at him for a few more seconds, before giving a small smile. "If I have something to live for? Alright."

* * *

><p>"Oy, pass me the bread, would you?" Arthur said to Francis, who seemed to be ignoring him spectacularly. Matthew sighed and reached across the table to hand it to the Briton on the other side of Alfred. "Thank you, Matthew," he said before glaring at the Frenchman. "He obviously didn't learn manners from you."<p>

"Children, children," America said, draping an arm over the back of England's chair. "Let us not fight, and instead gorge ourselves wholeheartedly on this bountiful feast."

Matthew laughed and Arthur rolled his eyes, poking Alfred in the side. "Shut up and stuff your face."

When they started eating, Matthew looked around the table, so Gilbert passed him the salt without a word. He was always putting salt on everything now. West said it had something to do with keeping his electrolytes in balance.

Smiling in wordless thanks, Matthew sprinkled it over the cucumber stew and took a sip. "This is wonderful, Francis."

"Mm. _Cold_ cucumber soup is really the best, though," England said with a sniff. He noticed that Gilbert was being rather quiet and looked over to find him glancing at Matthew every so often. It was nothing too unusual, though, so he turned back to his own food. Just a moment later he looked back and blinked in surprise. A little wrinkle creased over the bridge of Matthew's nose and he quickly pulled the spoon from his mouth. Prussia's reaction time was astonishing: immediately he pushed his own glass over to Canada and instantly, Matthew drank, his expression one of fleeting pain. The albino muttered something too him, but all England was able to catch was "too hasty" and "suck on the ice" before Gilbert stood and disappeared into the kitchen.

"... Are you alright, Matthew?" he asked, peering around Alfred to do so.

Gilbert came back into the room, a bottle of tums in his hand. "He ate too quick and has heartburn. Here you go." When they were in Germany, he had asked West about that, and he just explained that since the baby is pressing against the stomach and intestines, it makes it much easier for the acid to splash up, or something like that.

Matthew chewed and swallowed the pills quickly and downed the rest of the water. "Thanks," he said, rubbing at his collar. When Canada looked up he saw concern from three pairs of eyes and smiled a little sheepishly. "It was just so good... I couldn't help myself."

Francis gave a small smile and patted him on the arm. "I'll make sure to make foods that hopefully will not aggravate it." He would have to look that up, because the only thing he could think of was foods that weren't spicy.

The rest of dinner was fairly pleasant, though Matthew had to endure four attentions making sure he wasn't eating too quickly. He was rather tired, though, and found himself in bed quite early, bidding everyone goodnight. Alfred promised to be up to bed as soon as he finished the dishes, but Matthew waved him off, glancing pointedly at Arthur who was wrapping up the half-eaten fruit salad. "Don't force yourself, Al."

The American seemed torn, wanting to sleep with his brother, but also thinking that it had been a long time since he had seen Arthur.

Canada found Gilbert in his room, making sure Gilbird's food tray was completely full, and knocked on the partially open door. His mind was still fresh with the sudden fear of losing him to some unseen, unfathomable force. "Goodnight, Gilbert. Sleep well."

"Oh. Uh yeah, night Matt." Gilbert took the bird out of the cage, and he flew on top of his head almost immediately. He missed the days when the awesome Gilbird could fly around freely, but near the end of the twentieth century people kept trying to catch him for some reason.

Canada smiled and watched as Prussia spoke openly with his bird, rummaging through something in his chest of drawers. The little bird hopped from his head onto his shoulder and looked about ready to fly off, but Gilbert absentmindedly scooped it back up and returned it to his head where it seemed to complacently nestle. Canada knew that he was attentive, even if no one really gave him credit for it. He yawned and retreated to his bedroom for some much needed sleep.

As soon as Gilbert got into bed, he knew something was off. He had been thinking of what Francis had said, about him paying more attention to Canada. While that was true, it didn't mean he was going to be a good father - it just meant that he knew about Matthew's cravings. That got him thinking about the baby. How was he going to raise a kid? He didn't know anything about kids! Ludwig had practically raised himself after Holy Roman Empire had disappeared, and even when he had first met Italy, he hadn't had any idea what to do! How could he take care of a little tiny baby that couldn't even hold its own head up?

After two hours of tossing and turning, Gilbert figured he might as well get a book, because that usually got him to fall asleep. But all he could find were either pregnancy or parenting books.

Ah well. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

In one of the books, it said that the best way to lie when you're pregnant is on the side; if you lay on your back the baby couldn't get enough blood or something like that. He was sure he had seen Matthew laying on his back once or twice... Usually when he fell asleep on the couch or something... but it still happened! What if he slept on his back all the time?

Quietly, he crept to Matthew's door and opened it a little. The moonlight from the window showed two figures in the bed, so that idiotic American had gone to bed with him again. It was difficult to see, but he was pretty sure that Matthew was on his side. Well, that was good at least. Gilbert closed the door, and decided to once again try to get to sleep, maybe after just a few pages more...

That night, Prussia got a total of two hours of sleep.

Matthew woke rather early, as he was prone to doing whenever the baby got restless, and when he walked into the kitchen just as the sky was turning the light blue of pre-dawn, he was surprised to find that Gilbert was already up, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in one hand and one of the thicker baby books in the other. He settled himself in the chair beside Prussia's and let out a little exhale, rubbing his abused belly. "You're up awfully early."

Gilbert looked up, glad to have someone else awake. "Morning. Hey, what kind of prenatal vitamins are you taking? This book was talking about some, and one of these isn't good for the baby's eyesight."

"Uh... Well, Arthur's put me on quite a few. But I know what you're talking about." He grimaced. "That's the scariest chapter in the book. It's just everything that could possibly go wrong and what you might be doing that's hurting the baby and... wait. Why are you reading that book?" Better yet, why did it look like he was nearly done with it? There were only approximately thirty pages left in the 600-page manual. "Are you feeling alright?"

Quickly, Gilbert closed the book and shrugged. "There wasn't anything else to read. You gonna make pancakes today?"

Matthew yawned and nodded, brushing some of the mussed hair out of his face. "Sure. Regular pancakes, or do you want bananas or blueberries or..?"

"Uh, whatever. Want me to help?" Gilbert stood up to get some more coffee. He was going to need a lot of it today with only having slept two hours.

"I would appreciate that," Matthew answered and hefted himself to his feet. Another little kick touched the top of his belly and he made a noise before laughing and reaching into the cabinet for flour. "I was right, by the way. Your kid really doesn't stop moving."

Gilbert waited for instruction, having no idea what to do. "Well, you should take a long walk, because the sway usually puts the baby to sleep. Uh, well I mean that's what the book says, not that I believe everything it says. Not that I'm interested in the book or anything."

"I had forgotten about that," Canada mused, instructing Prussia to grab some milk and blueberries as he poured the flour in a bowl. "I'll do that after I get you some pancakes. Is there anything else I should know, Dr. Weilschmidt?" He grinned.

The albino frowned and lightly pushed Matthew's shoulder. "Shut up." Just because he read one freaking book didn't mean he was suddenly an expert. And the book was stupid anyway, didn't really tell him anything important. Well, besides the lying on the side thing. And the prenatal vitamins. That was pretty important.

Canada just laughed, turning the skillet on and rotating a bit of vegetable oil inside. "But really, I think that'll be very helpful. I kept dreaming last night that there was a little octopus in my stomach crawling around and trying to get out." He made a face. "... A nation hasn't ever given birth to anything but a child, right?"

"Well, I don't think we could really say that Holy Roman Empire was ever a child, way too serious. But I promise there has never been an octopus."

"Don't laugh! Can you even imagine how much trouble an octopus baby would be?" He rolled his eyes. "It might make sense, though. You're awfully handsy, so I can see why your DNA might be confused..."

"Hey! That's not fair! But anyway, we can't have an octopus baby. Where would the diaper go? And we would have to have a huge tank, and just imagine the fortune we would spend on mittens. Because kids always lose their mittens, and he would need eight at a time."

"Would you cut up some bananas for me? Arthur would feel so needed and useful if he had to keep making them to replace the old ones, though," Matthew said thoughtfully, stirring the batter.

Gilbert got out the banana and started cutting it up. "It's sad how he was once such a powerful nation, and now he knits. Course, I guess he got off better than Rome... at least England is still around." Empires always fell, it was the same all the time.

"That's not very nice," Canada replied, scooping up a handful of pieces of chopped banana and stirring them into th bowl. "He taugh me how to knit as a child. It's served me well over the years; I keep very warm during the winter."

Gilbert just rolled his eyes. "You could just go and buy a sweater. Or mittens or whatever you make out of it. Knitting is stupid anyway."

"That's understandable: You're just not secure enough in your masculinity to appreciate the art," Canada said with a shrug as he poured the batter into the pan.

Gilbert sputtered a bit at that. "My masculinity is fu... Just awesome! My masculinity is the most masculine thing in the world! And how can you be secure in _your_ masculinity- you're pregnant!" He crossed his arms, but still passed the spatula when asked.

"So I am!" he exclaimed in mock surprise. "Funny how a pregnant nation who knits is more secure in his masculinity than a former kingdom, huh?" He laughed when Gilbert caught him in a chokehold and tossed a blueberry at his face.

Prussia rubbed his knuckles in Matthew's hair, messing it up. "Whatever! I'm awesome and you're pregnant. So I guess that stuff doesn't really matter, huh?" He let him go and wiped the blueberry off his shoulder.

Canada continued to chuckle, picking one of the dark berries from Prussia's collar and popping it into his mouth. He flipped the two pancakes in the wide skillet and glanced out the window at the slowly brightening, violet sky. "It's going to be a beautiful day. Only a bit cloudy, I think. Did you have anything you'd like to do today?" He turned a little smile to his companion. "You may want to tell me now. I'll speak in your favor, or else they'll run all over you. Unless you want to leave the weekend up to Alfred."

"Oh god no. But I can't really think of anything. Can't we just stay here? Have Francis make us a picnic or something." As long as he wouldn't have to go to a burger convention or whatever America would want to do.

"He'd really enjoy that," Matthew said thoughtfully, and with a flick of his wrist sent the pancakes flying from the skillet onto a plate. "And you know, you don't have to stick around if Al comes up with anything too outlandish."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah I guess." Gilbert saw as Matthew paused on his way back to the oven. "Your back hurts again. Want a massage?"

Chuckling quietly, Canada poured more batter into the skillet. "It's uncanny how you can know that," he said lightheartedly and nodded. "I would really appreciate it, yes. But could you maybe do it while I'm standing? I want to finish these."

"It probably won't be as good but I'll try." Gilbert went behind him, sliding his hands under Matthew's shirt to get at the small of his back, where it usually hurt the most. Like this he mainly used his thumbs, not wanting to push Canada into the oven.

The young nation did his best to focus on the pancakes and even went so far as to flip them before his breath hitched and his eyelids fluttered. It felt way too good, the firm, steady pressure in his sensitive lower back. Prussia's thumbs pressed into his spine and he groaned, low and appreciative, as the ache began to relax. "Right there," he murmured, his shoulders losing every ounce of pained tension that he didn't even know he had accrued.

Which, unfortunately, was right when Alfred walked in with the morning paper. It fell on the floor as his eyes went wide. "What the hell are you doing? Get your hands off of him!"

Matthew's eyes flew wide open and he snapped to attention, peering over his shoulder. He hoped to deflect what sounded a lot like irate anger from Prussia. "Good morning, Al. You're up pretty early..."

Now that he could see that all that was happening was with clothes on at least, Alfred bent down and picked up his paper. It sure had looked (and sounded) like there had been something else going on though. "Yeah, good thing too. Holy shit, you guys really shouldn't do that."

"It was just a massage, calm down." Gilbert leaned against the counter, not wanting to be seen touching Matthew too much while America was there.

"My back was hurting and Gilbert was just helping me out," Canada piped up, flipping the pancakes onto a plate and pouring more batter into the skillet. "I'm gonna have to make more... Al, do you want bananas or blueberries in your pancakes?"

"Bananas," he grunted, sitting down and opening the paper. Then he went to make some coffee since the pot was empty. "You know Matt, I can give you massages too. I'm probably better than him anyway."

Canada sighed. "I'm not about to engage in this battle of ego between you two. The earth might implode. Just drop the issue, Al. Gil, would you please chop up another banana for me?" He flipped a golden pancake.

Gilbert huffed, but still went in the fridge for a banana. He was still tired from having almost no sleep, and he really didn't want to deal with the asshole. "Yeah, because he's so busy reading his paper that he definitely couldn't do it."

"He's making more coffee," Canada amended before Alfred could kick up a fuss and sent the albino a pointed look. "He's going to make enough for everyone who wants some. Aren't you, Alfred?"

The blond grunted. "Fine, whatever. Good thing Arthur and Francis don't drink it, and you're not allowed." How much coffee could two people drink? Although, by the look of Prussia's bloodshot eyes, maybe he would be drinking quite a lot.

Canada mumbled something out the side of his mouth that sounded an awful lot like "We'll see about that" and shot a glare at Gilbert when he started to snicker. Then Matthew started, his going wide. He rubbed a hand along the underside of his belly. "Oof... this kid..."

"Is he kicking? That's so cute! I wonder if we can feel it yet?" Alfred put his hand on the growing belly, moving it around to try and see if he could feel anything yet.

Matthew sighed. "I can't feel it on the outside yet, but trust me, this octopus just loves to roll."

Gilbert chuckled at that. "How can it feel like an octopus? It still only has two legs and two arms." So really he should only be able to feel four points, shouldn't he?

"But they're all hands and legs. Ohh..." He cringed. "And that was a kick to my bladder. Someone take over." Canada dropped his spatula on the counter and shuffled out of the room faster than anyone six months pregnant should go.

The two men looked to each other, then Gilbert grabbed the spatula, not wanting to risk handing breakfast over to America's... iconic cooking style. They were both silent, but he took the mug of coffee when it was offered. Luckily Matthew returned just shortly thereafter and was a bit surprised to find them in an unstrained silence. He decided not to rock the boat and took the spatula from Gilbert. "You don't look so good," he muttered to the albino when Alfred became engrossed in the paper. "Maybe you should go back to bed."

He huffed, knowing just what would happen if he tried to go back to sleep. "No, I'm fine. After breakfast, do you want me to continue the massage? You only got a few minutes." And he knew that it didn't get out all the pain.

Though he wasn't sure he felt right about Gilbert's refusal to sleep though he was clearly exhausted, Matthew nodded. Maybe he could convince Prussia to sleep if they were alone.

* * *

><p>No matter what Gilbert did, for the next few days he got no more than three hours of sleep a night. He could tell that Matthew was getting worried about him, but it was too embarrassing to tell him that he couldn't sleep because he was worried about being a father, and had almost read through all the baby books in trying to get some shut eye.<p>

During the weekend when the the three visitors had stayed over, Ludwig had called Gilbert and brought up the question of the baby's health. When he learned that they had not yet gone in for an ultrasound, Prussia could practically hear his twitch. "You must have one right away," Germany stressed over and over until finally Prussia passed the phone to Canada. In no time, Germany had convinced the bespectacled blond that it was absolutely necessary to check for health-related problems. They planned for Ludwig to fly over and perform it himself, everyone understanding the complications that would be involved with visiting a human doctor.

The doorbell rang midweek and Matthew ushered Ludwig in, who had a car full of strange equipment behind him. Matthew was terribly glad that his older brothers weren't around, lest they be underfoot of Germany's brisk operation. Within an hour, everything had been hooked up in the living room, and Matt was instructed to lay down on the couch.

Kumajiro was laying right in front of the sofa, ever watchful, but Ludwig insisted that he shouldn't be there for this. Gilbert was forced to pick him up and take him to another room as Germany started putting gel on Matthew's stomach. "This is a little cold."

Matthew flinched at the sudden chill on his stomach and looked up at the focused German. "Um... Germany?" Ice-blue eyes peered up at him in acknowledgment and he continued, glancing over to make sure Gilbert was out of sight. "Thanks to Prussia and America's egos this is going to trouble me more than you can imagine, but I just love surprises too much. Would you please keep the baby's gender a secret?"

Ludwig gave a nod. "Of course. And do not worry, Gilbert doesn't know how to read an ultrasound, so he won't know either."

"Thought as much. I really appreciate it," Canada said with a little smile as Ludwig turned the machine on. It came to life and the screen seemed to be loading, and by the time Gilbert returned from putting Kumajiro away, Matthew's toes were already curling in anticipation.

He walked around the couch, leaning on the back rest over Matthew. "So I don't get how this tells us the baby is alright. Just making sure he has all his arms and legs?" And to find out if it was a boy or a girl, of course, but West was all about the medical reasons.

"It's important to make sure there are no physical issues that should be addressed so immediate action can be taken. It's very important," Ludwig answered as he fiddled with the machine. Matthew craned his neck a bit, making a face at the smeared blue goo leaking over the round sides of his belly.

Finally, Ludwig was ready and put the wand on Matthew's stomach, moving it around for a few seconds before he got a good picture. "There it is. It looks like the fetus is sucking it's thumb." He was careful to not say a gender either way, even though it was fairly obvious to him already.

Matthew's breath caught in his throat. The little figure on the dark screen moved a bit when Ludwig circled his stomach with the little machine. Its little arm was bent and if he squinted, he could make out a few tiny fingers. His heart beat just a little faster and as soon as one folded limb shifted, he felt a kick to the inside of his stomach. "I see the little nose," he said softly, his lips curving into a smile.

Ludwig pointed out a few more features, and also said that it seemed healthy. "Can you see the heart beating? It is a good speed, exactly what it should be. No anomalies, very healthy."

Matthew's face had darkened with a happy flush and he rubbed his stomach, though it was slick with fluid. "Can your machine amplify the sound of the heartbeat, like in the movies?" he asked.

Germany nodded and flipped a switch, and strange gushing sounds came out. "We can hear both your heart beat and the baby's, so the baby's is the faster of the two."

The warm metal slid over Matthew's stomach to find the smaller heartbeat and once the little noise grew louder Ludwig held the device over the curve of Canada's belly. Matthew's heartbeat pounded out of time with the baby's but that... that was exactly what he had been so enthralled with in the very beginning. He could finally hear the soft, steady thump that had begun just weeks after the little child had been conceived.

Prussia had been so cold at the time, but over the months he had begun to show obvious interest in the child, and Matthew looked up to see what his reaction might be to hearing the sweet sound of the life they had created. His breath caught in his throat.

The Prussian's face was contorted with surprise, delight, and something almost to painfully raw to see. Two glistening tears crawled down Prussia's cheeks, but once he saw that Matthew was looking at him, he turned away and wiped furiously at them. "The air... is really dry in here..." Damn, just seeing it, hearing the heartbeats... he wasn't sure why, but it got to him. And, not that he really needed to admit it to himself by now, but it wasn't about pride or anything he had thought it was about before. How could he ever think it was about pride? It was never about a nation making way for another nation, a sense of nationalism or superiority.

Ludwig could only stare at his brother in stunned silence and Matthew's expression shifted. Before he could stop himself, tears of his own welled and dripped between his eyelashes and down his cheeks. "Gilbert," he sniffed, rubbing at his wet cheeks and smiling uncontrollably.

Trying to change the subject, Gilbert pointed to the screen. "He... his head looks big." Dammit, he wasn't going to continue crying like a fucking woman. It was even worse that his brother was here as well.

"The skull develops quicker than the rest of the body," Ludwig confirmed, finally dragging his eyes away from his flushed brother to the screen. "Development seems normal. As far as I can tell, this is a perfectly healthy child."

Gilbert nodded, rubbing his nose. "So, what is it? I can't really tell, it looks weird. Does that look like a penis?" He pointed to some blob, keeping away any emotional things he could. But he let out a noise of protest when Ludwig reached over and shut the machine off. "Hey! That wasn't very long!"

Matthew, too, was a bit disappointed. He could watch that screen for hours if left to his own devices. But Ludwig shook his head. "I only have so much film. Securing this for the ultrasound was expensive." And at that, Matthew brightened.

"You recorded it?"

Germany nodded. "Yes. It will only take me a few days to develop the results, since I'll be doing it on my own. I'll send it through the mail as soon as I've finished."

Gilbert pouted a bit, but not too much. "Well? What is it? A boy or a girl? Come on West, I know you could tell."

He shook his head, taking a towel and handing it to Matthew. "I know what it is," he said simply, figuring that it would be easier to not say anything he didn't need to.

Pushing himself up, Matt wiped the blue goo from his stomach. "Does it matter?" he asked Prussia when the albino started to protest. "You're already convinced that the baby is a boy."

"Well, I think it's a boy, but we have to be sure, right? Come on West, what is it?" He was getting frustrated, because his brother just kept on packing up the machine, taking the film out of it and putting that in his pocket.

Ludwig turned a stern eye on his brother when the pestering didn't stop. "Matthew asked me to keep it to myself, and I'm going to honor that request."

It took Gilbert a moment to let that sink in, looking from Matthew to West. "But... why? Come on, fine, if Matt wants to be surprised then fine, but you can still tell me! I mean we could get clothes for the right gender and stuff!"

Germany gave Canada an exasperated look and the shorter blond sat up, pulling his shirt down over the bump. "Can we please just save it as a surprise?" he asked the albino. "We can get clothes that are gender neutral in colour."

"But I mean come on, aren't you curious? You have to want to know!" He crouched down in front of the couch, looking Matthew in the eye.

Canada met his gaze and offered a little lopsided grin, though he knew that if Gilbert pressed the issue for much longer, he would likely give in.

"... Please?"

Gilbert hesitated for a few seconds, still wanting to know, but he couldn't bring himself to insist anymore. "...Fine. We'll spend the next however many weeks having no idea what it is, you getting annoyed at me for always calling it a he." Unable to stop himself, Prussia rubbed Matthew's belly, picturing the baby inside as it had looked on screen.

Turning warm from the inside out, Matthew barely dared to breathe, just watching Gilbert as he slid his hands under the too-large t-shirt, cupping the swollen stomach as best he could. "It's sticky," Canada warned softly, lifting his shirt again so Prussia could see.

Germany quietly disassembled his gear, keeping his eyes turned respectfully away from the intimate scene. He worked as quickly and effeciently as possibly to get the machinery in safe, portable pieces.

Once he was done, Ludwig stood up straight and looked over to them. "I'll leave now. If you have any questions or concerns, just call." Then he held his hand out for both of them to shake.

Startled out of his fixation just a bit, Matthew offered Ludwig a smile and took his hand. "Thank you so much. I can't thank you enough. How much do I owe you?"

"You took my brother out of my house and made him a respectable adult. That's more than enough."

Gilbert made a noise of protest. "I was an adult way before you, so shut up!"

Matthew laughed and stood, stumbling back a little when Gilbert joined him. He grabbed onto the albino's steadying hands to right himself before picking up a couple of the many cases Ludwig had tucked the machines and following him to the door. "If you say so. But once we start draining the maple trees, you can look for a big package in the mail."

"Well thank you. I appreciate that." Not that he would use it most of the time, but he was sure that Feliciano would love it.

Matthew and Gilbert saw him off and once he was gone, they retreated back into the house. Canada wanted so badly to mention the tears, to receive an answer to the questions poking and prodding him. He worried his lip, and decided in the end not to say anything at all. Whatever change had come over Prussia was striking and powerful, and there was no way Canada was about to sabotage that to sate his own curiosity.

Gilbert cleared his throat to get rid of the slightly awkward silence. "Well, good thing the baby is healthy, hey? You know, apparently if it was born this early, it would still have a chance of surviving." Damn his late night baby book readings.

"Don't jinx it," Canada replied softly as he settled back onto the sofa. The baby kicked and he made a noise. "Oh, before I forget, would you please get the mail? Alfred said Arthur was sending something over, but 'it wouldn't do well in the wilderness.'" He ended the remark by making quotations with his fingers.

He chuckled and nodded. "Sure. I'll be back in a few minutes. Maybe you could start lunch." He grabbed his jacket and started the walk down the hill to get the mail. Once he got there, however, he saw that the mail box had a few boxes on the ground because they couldn't fit inside. Did England really send that much? He was going to have trouble carrying all that up the hill!

Somehow he made it and tossed the boxes on the couch after two trips down the hill, huffing and puffing. "You back yet?" came Canada's call from the kitchen. The blond poked his head around the doorway. "It took you fore- wow."

"Yeah. Man, some of those are heavy!" Prussia sat down on the chair, leaning back and closing his eyes. "If they're all from England, I'm going to kill him. He probably sent rocks because he knew I would be sent to get the mail today."

"You're such a pessimist," Canada chided. He disappeared back into the kitchen for a moment and then came out, wiping a bit of flour from his chest. "Are these all from Arthur?" Going through the boxes, Matthew tilted his head to the side curiously. "Uh... this one's from Finland... and this one's from Ukraine... but the rest are from England."

Gilbert groaned, grabbing a pillow. "I'm going to kill him. And what's Finland sending you? Don't tell me they're sending the whole crib over in bits in the mail. That would be just like something those two would do."

"No, it's pretty small..." Matthew went to retreieve a box cutter and opened the package, pulling out an adorable, intricate stuffed animal. It looked sort of like a hippo with wide eyes, and it was almost silken in its softness. Matthew laughed and settled it in his lap as he went for the others.

Over the course of the next few days, several packages arrived, including a few cute little baby books from Ukraine; many, many knit clothes from England; a gourmet baby food book from Italy; and a special pair of headphones that would fit snugly around Matthew's tummy, including a few CDs of Mozart and Beethoven from Austria, accompanied by a long letter explaining the positive effects of the music on the child's developing brain.

Which is why Gilbert found himself with a CD player in hand, kneeling in front of the couch, trying to figure how to put the headphones on Matthew's belly so they would stay on. "Well, if I put them like this..." But it was too low and they slipped off. Finally they seemed to stay, so he stuck the music into the CD player and turned it on. He looked up at Matthew who had a small smile on his face. "You don't think it'll be too loud do you? We don't want to hurt his ears..."

"It shouldn't," Canada answered, looking down at his exposed stomach. "The noise is muffled by... well, me." Chuckling, Matthew looked out the window. It was dark, as the evenings had grown long for the upcoming winter, and Kumajiro still hadn't returned from his walk. "Do you think it's too loud?"

Gilbert looked at the volume on the player. It was only at about half, but he didn't really know what was bad for the baby. He put his ear to Matthew's belly, and could faintly hear the music. "Well I can't hear it much, so it'll probably be fine." He spent a few seconds trying to figure out if he knew that song when he felt... Something. Prussia pulled back and stared wide eyed at Matthew. "I think I just felt him move!"

Canada's attention, which had become rivetted on the man before him, turned to feeling for the kick with his own hands as they slipped besided Gilbert's enthusiastic pair. He felt the baby kick from within and laughed, taking the pale hand and pressing it right below the headphones on the curve of the underside of his belly. "I think that's a 'hi, Daddy,'" Matthew chuckled, readjusting the headphones.

"Oh my god..." Gilbert could still feel the small movements, amazed by them. He looked up at Matthew, who was practically glowing with happiness. And it wasn't really an epiphany, at least he didn't think it was, but suddenly things made more sense. The jealousy he got when America slept with Matthew. Wanting to give him massages, not to touch him, but simply to make Matthew more comfortable. The late nights worrying and the calmness he was finally instilling in his life, all for Matthew's sake. He had changed. _Everything_ had changed.

He loved this man, and the baby inside him.

Gilbert wasn't exactly sure how long the feeling had taken to cultivate, but he knew it hadn't just happened. He looked at Canada, who was still smiling like everything was good in the world. The baby moved against his palm again, which spurred the Prussian into motion, sitting up on his knees, taking Matthew's face in his hands, and pressing their lips together.

Stunned, Canada's thoughts were numbed for a few long seconds as Prussia kissed him. When they did start to trickle back, every little thing that crossed his mind was pleasant: Gilbert had been so kind the past few months; he had cooked and cleaned and touched without expecting anything in return. He had soothed Matthew's aches and respected his wishes. He had nursed him when he was sick, and still he was the only person to care for Matthew and still treat him like adult instead of a helpless child. And Matthew loved him more than he could say.

But it could not be all as it seemed, said the little angry doubt in Matthew's heart. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to push that awful feeling away, but it persisted. Nothing so good could ever last. Nothing ever did. As soon as he allowed himself to be overrun by his traitorous emotions, everything would go to hell. He would get boring and Gilbert would fall back into his old ways but try to keep them secret. The imagery behind his eyes was so real that Matthew felt his stomach turn.

Anything but that.

So though his heart raced and ached for the sweetness Gilbert's kiss promised, he pulled himself away.

Gilbert still had his eyes closed for a second before opening them and looking at Matthew's seemingly annoyed face. "Sorry, I guess that was a little sudden." He glanced away, trying to figure out how he could say that he loved him and wanted to _be together_ and not just be together, without sounding like a complete fruitcake.

While the little irrational part of Matthew wanted to drag him back in for another kiss to prove that it definitely wasn't sudden, that Matthew had always wanted it, but that part was sadly crushed by his ever-present fear. "What the hell are you thinking?" Matthew murmured, his brows knit in a tight frown.

Gilbert pulled back a bit, looking at Matthew. "Well, um, I think we should try and date. I mean, we work well together, and the baby..." The manly side of Prussia refused to be the first one to say the L word, so he didn't.

Canada's eyes softened in a silent plea. Every word that Gilbert spoke was painful. Matthew wanted to believe it, and while he was sure that Gilbert did mean it for now, there was no doubt in his mind that it wouldn't last. "I can't. We can't. I told you before..."

"But it was different before! 'Cause before, you were thinking that I would still be living in Germany, but now I'm here, and I'm... going to birthing classes, and I'm giving you massages and stuff." He tried to explain, why it was a much better idea now than months before. "And besides, I... like you."

Matthew had to force himself to look away from the piercing red eyes and hold his warring emotions behind a poorly constructed mask. "I like you, too," he said slowly, his voice breaking. "But we just... can't."

Now Prussia was getting a little frustrated. He thought it would be easier than this. He was so awesome, why wouldn't Matthew want to date him? But it was understandable. After all, until now he had tried to stay away from relationships. "Alright, I get it. You're confused, you don't know what you feel, right? But it won't be like before, it'll be more than sex!"

Standing abruptly, Matthew removed the headphones from his stomach and pulled his shirt down. "I won't. I... Gilbert, it just..." He shook his head, rubbing his eyes. "I need to take a walk."

He left so quickly that Gilbert only had time to get out a few half sentences. But when he was gone, the albino sat down and looked around the room. Alright, Matthew must need romance or something. He needed to be wooed. And who was the self-proclaimed master of love? He picked up a phone and dialed the familiar number.

"_Oui, mon petit Mathieu_?" came the low, rich voice on the other line. "_You never call. Shame on you_."

Gilbert cleared his throat. "Hey, it's me, bastard. I live here too, remember? The whole I'm gonna be a father thing?"

"_I seem to remember something to that effect_," France replied with a sigh. _"But you only call me when you want to cause a ruckus or need help, and since you've become so domestic with my boy, I'm going to assume it's the latter. What can I do for you_?"

Damn, France knew him too well. "I need to romance the shit out of Matt so that he'll be swept off his feet and love me." Something flashy and bold would probably work, or at least that was what France would come up with.

The other line was dead silent for a long minute before a clatter of motion crackled through the line. "_Oh, that's... Gilbert, that's fantastic! Ahh, Antonio, Antonio, our little boy is all grown up! Of course I'll help you_."

"Antonio is there? Good maybe he can have some ideas. Matt will probably be back in like half an hour, but I could probably get him out of the house tomorrow so I can do something. Problem is, the only romantic things I can think of would be wine! But he can't have wine!"

"_Oh, my dear heartless friend_," Francis said, sounding physically pained.

"_That's really bad, Gilbert_," came a cheerfully sympathetic voice. "_You've got to know how to romance your partner or they'll be upset and cry and everything and then you'll have to work twice as hard to get back into their good graces."_

_"Yes, but you mustn't think of it as a chore; romance should be pleasant for both parties."_

_"Gosh, Gilbert, I didn't know you'd fallen in love!"_

He sat back in his chair, head hitting the back. "Francis, you know how much I hate speakerphone. And hey, it's not my fault I'm not romantic! That's what I have you two for. Now tell me what I have to do. I could get him flowers or something. Do guys even like flowers? What if he's allergic or something?"

"_You've got to think outside the box_," Antonio chirped. "_What does Ca... Ca... Canada_?"

_"Oui."_

_"Ah, I remembered! Yes, what does Canada like? Do something he enjoys doing, even if you don't like it so much. And give him chocolate. Everyone loves chocolate."_

Gilbert tried to think about that. After a pause, he opened his mouth and closed it before opening it again. "He likes... massages. Uh, and hockey." What else did he like? He liked talking about the baby...

There was an audible thunk and a muffled, "_Ah, Francis, doesn't it hurt your head when you do that_?" before the heavily accented French voice came back on the line.

"_I thought you said you want to romance the boy_."

"I do! But he asked me what Matt likes, and he likes hockey! Fuck, you know him better, why don't you tell me what he likes and I'll have a whole romantic night of things that Matt likes. A maple fountain made up of hockey pucks for all I know!" Now that he thought about that, it might not be a bad idea...

_"You are hurting me every time you open your mouth. I advise you to write this down so you will remember. A few romantic gestures that have almost always worked for me would be of course the tried and true covering the floor with rose petals - and once you properly woo him, make sure to do the same in the bathtub and make beautiful, passionate love to him; then, of course, take him to the beach just as the sun begins to set. Take off your shoes and walk barefoot, hand in hand. Offer him your jacket."_

_"Snuggle!"_

_"Oh yes: our Mathieu is a cuddly one. Make sure to hold him, and... hmm. Knowing how prideful you are, I can't help but wonder... have you told him how you feel?"_

Gilbert pursed his lips. Dammit, how did the Frenchman know him so well? "I... told him I liked him. And he said he liked me too." That was fucking close enough. When they actually started to date, then he could say his feelings. If Matthew said it first.

"_Oh, Gilbert_," came Antonio's despairing cry, and there was the thumping sound again. "_Gilbert, Francis is going to get a concussion if you don't stop saying dumb things!"_

_"I am hanging up_," came France's growl. _"I will offer no help to a coward_."

"Wait! Don't hang up! I'm not a fucking coward, I just don't want to be all pansy-assed! Come on Francis, I'm asking for help here, how often do I do that? When was the last time I ever asked for help?" He knew how long it had been, because he considered asking help a sign of weakness, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"_Absolutely not. Of course I had been congratulatory under the assumption that you had made your feelings clear to the boy, but obviously that is not the case. If you cannot tell him, then tell me, and if you think to lie or underplay anything, both Antonio and I will offer no assistance. What are your feelings for Matthieu_?"

He paused, and frowned. Yeah, he realized today that he had feelings for Canada, and they seemed pretty strong, but was it really love? He didn't even know what that felt like. "I feel... like I want to make him happy. Like I want to raise this kid with him, like I want to see his face light up every day like it did today when I felt the baby move. I don't know guys, you tell me what my feelings are! How am I supposed to know?"

"_Uh oh_," Antonio said gravely. "_He's got it bad."_

_"... You've never said anything more beautiful,_" Francis agreed, sniffling. Then his emotional voice became more stern. _"You are a fool, Gilbert. If you would just tell him all of that, he would fall right into your arms."_

A long groan was heard, and Gilbert slouched down on the chair. "I can't tell him that! God, I only told you two that because I've known you for so long! But sappy shit like that, it just isn't me, I feel weirded out just feeling like that, never mind _telling_ him that's how I feel!"

"_You're an idiot."_

_"You're really an idiot_," Antonio agreed.

"_But you're our idiot, and I suppose it cannot be helped. But really, you'd just make it easier on yourself if you simply opened your mouth."_

_"He won't."_

_"I know. So let me think... rose petals, walk on the beach..."_

_"Snuggles."_

_"Snuggles..."_

_"Why don't you bake something for him? Lovi loves that."_

_"Food is a wonderful idea. Something chocolaty and sweet that melts on his tongue."_

_"But Gilbert can't cook..."_

_"Ah, yes. Such a shame."_

_"Why don't you serenade him?"_

_"Hmm... he doesn't have a half-bad voice when he puts his heart into it..."_

Gilbert was on the verge of hanging up. "I'm not singing to him! Look, whatever, I'll get him some chocolates and do that rose petal thing, and maybe do a walk on the beach. Do you think that'll work?"

_"Of course it will. I am a genius when it comes to love."_

_"But Gil.._." Antonio's voice was concerned. _"Really... it was very sweet. I don't know Canaboo personally, but I definitely think that the thing that would make him feel happy and loved is if you told him that you want to be there for him and keep his child and make him smile. I know your pride is a big roadblock, but isn't he worth it?"_

Gilbert hardly paused before answering, "Don't worry, I'll tell him when we're together. And it's Canada. Honestly, he's the second largest country in the world. I don't know how you people forget him so easily..."

"_Well, alright_..." Spain sounded unsure and France stepped in.

"_Just be aware_," the blond warned, "_it was you who said that I know my boy better than you, and I can assure you that he will never be happy now that you've done this to him until you let him know how you feel. He will carry on as if nothing happened, and I imagine that everything you do (outside of our advice, of course) will only distress him_."

But Gilbert just shrugged. "He'll come around. And like I said, when we're together I'll tell him how I feel. For now he knows I like him and it would be more than sex, I'm sure that'll be enough for him to accept me." He heard two groans from the other end of the line but didn't want to hear it. "Well I'll call you to tell you how it went. Thanks." And he hung up.


End file.
